Viva la Vida
by MandaPanda2
Summary: Nothing changes in Sunset Beach except the people. (Alternate universe.)
1. January 6, 1997

Disclaimer: All characters (unless otherwise specified) belong to Aaron Spelling, E. Duke Vincent, Gary Tomlin, NBC, et al and are used here strictly for non-profit entertainment purposes.  
Rating: PG14  
Genre: Drama / Romance  
Spoilers: The first 100 (or so) episodes...sort of…not really.  
Summary: Nothing changes in Sunset Beach except the people. (Alternate universe.)

* * *

Chapter One: "January 6, 1997"

Gregory knocked on the door of the hotel room, waiting for a response that didn't come. "Del, it's Gregory. Are you ready or do you want me to wait downstairs?" he called out after several moments of silence. He knocked again firmly on the door, annoyed as he glanced down at his watch. It had been easier doing business with Del when he was almost 10,000 miles away as opposed to being in the same town.

As he knocked again on the unyielding wood, the locks clicked and the door swung open. "Good Lord, Gregory, you'll wake the dead," Olivia chuckled, leaning against the door jamb.

His stomach flipped, the sunlight streaming through the suite's windows to glow against her silk robe. She smirked, her blue eyes moving over him critically as she waited. He cleared his throat and smoothed his tie as he said, "Well, well, well…Little Olivia Blake."

Her eyes crinkled when he spoke, her former name rolling off his tongue so easily. "I don't think anyone's called me that in years," she marveled.

He chuckled and reached out, hugging her gingerly. She squeezed him back with a measure of affection that surprised him. "It's how you've always been to me," he said softly, his lips next to her ear. She pulled back slightly, meeting his eyes as he continued, "It's the name you had the last time I saw you."

She shook her head disbelievingly as he stepped into the suite and closed the door behind him. "Has it really been that long?"

He followed her into a small sitting room, the curtains drawn back to frame a picture-perfect view of the Pacific. The doors were flung open, a fresh ocean breeze stirring the pristine suite. He glanced around, expecting to find Del, but found no one. "Over twenty years."

Olivia shuddered visibly as she reached for the phone. "Twenty years? I hate to think how old that makes us. Have you eaten yet?"

Shaking his head, he turned in a small circle as he listened to her order coffee and breakfast for two. A mountain of luggage was piled in the corner, an intimidating pastiche of espresso-colored leather and polka dot plastic pieces. "Del said you weren't arriving until the end of the week," he said as she hung up the phone.

She tightened the belt of her robe, following his gaze to the luggage. "Yes, that was the plan, but I was able to close up the house sooner that I thought." She shrugged and sat in one of the armchairs, gesturing for him to do the same. "Winter is horrid in Amman, so Louise and I were happy to leave."

"So, you got in-"

"Late last night…or early this morning." She gave him a tired smile even as she pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, "We crossed so _many_ time zones." She glanced up at him and asked, "You were supposed to meet Del?"

"Over an early breakfast," Gregory admitted.

"He wasn't expecting us. Louise wanted to surprise her father," she explained, a distant look clouding her eyes. "In all the excitement, the meeting must have slipped his mind. I can wake him."

"_No need, Darlin'_."

They turned, watching as Del crossed the space between them, rubbing his face awake. "I heard the door," he continued, leaning down to kiss his wife. She slightly turned her face away, giving him her cheek instead of her lips. He scoffed under his breath and stood tall, yawning wide. "Sorry about our meeting, Greg," he continued, turning to him with his hand on his wife's shoulder.

"You can still have your meeting. I just ordered breakfast," Olivia said.

"It can wait," Gregory insisted, leaning back comfortably. "We can catch up instead." This drew a reluctant smile from Olivia as her husband sank into the sofa with a groan.

"How long's it been since we've all been together?" Del grumbled as he wedged a pillow beneath his head. "We've never managed to be in the same corner of the world at the same time."

"We were just talking about that. Thomas is eighteen, so," she trailed off, counting in her head, "it's been twenty-three years." She looked up, smiling at Gregory. "How old does that make Caitlin and Sean?"

"Caitlin's twenty and Sean's seventeen," he said with a quiet smile.

"We've become our parents," she sighed. "Do you have a photo?" She watched as he dutifully took a photo from his wallet and passed it to her. "Oh, Gregory," she gasped, looking at the snapshot, "they're beautiful." His continued smile was his only reply, watching as her eyes flickered before she looked back at him and softly said, "Caitlin looks just like Alex."

He nodded, taking back the picture from her extended hand. "She's her mother in every way," he said quietly, tucking the photo back into his wallet.

"It's a damn shame, Greg," Del said after several moments of pregnant silence. "Alex always was a real spitfire."

"I'm so sorry we couldn't make it to her funeral," she said softly.

Gregory nodded and cleared his throat, looking down at the carpet. "I got your note," he said simply. Three years of grief came back in an instant, the horrible way the bright sunshine mocked the mourners at the cemetery. The way every day for the last one thousand days was as empty as the one before it. "The children have been a comfort," he said finally, forcing a smile to ease Olivia's concerned gaze.

"I'm sure they have." She stood, looking out through the balcony doors to the ocean. "The town still looks the same," she said, changing the subject.

"Nothing changes in Sunset Beach except the people," Del sighed, catching Gregory's eye. "And, that makes it ripe for the picking."

"Picking?" She glanced over her shoulder, confused.

"Development," Gregory explained. "A new beach-front resort with the finest amenities: gourmet restaurants, shops, a spa and an executive golf course."

"Give those snobs up in Pebble Beach a run for their money," Del piped in. "And, it's going to make us a fortune."

"Dealing with California snobs is quite different from dealing with Saudi kings. The snobs are worse," Gregory deadpanned.

"Hell, that's alright. Haven't you heard, Greg? The world's running out of crude. Gotta get out now before I lose my head. Besides," he said, feeling his wife's gaze on him, "Olivia's fed up with moving every few years."

"It was easier when the children were younger," she explained, her tone suggesting she and Del had gone over this ad nauseum. "But with Thomas away for his gap year, Louise is alone. She needs a permanent group of friends and stability."

"Well, she'll like St. Agnes'. Caitlin loved the school."

She smiled, brushing her hair from her shoulder. "Thank you for the recommendation. She's looking forward to starting the new term next week. I'm sorry you couldn't meet her now, but I think it would take a bomb to get her out of bed. She was exhausted."

"Thought you would be too, Darlin'. All that traveling can wear a person down," Del said, casting a long gaze on his wife.

Gregory watched an indescribable look pass between husband and wife. "Traveling, like so many things in my life, has worn me down," she murmured, her eyebrow arched. She turned to Gregory, an apology dancing in her eyes. "But, I think I am going to lie down. We'll finish catching up later, I hope?" she asked as he stood.

He took her hand, wincing as her icy fingers slipped into his palm. He nodded and squeezed her hand. "Of course. What time is it in Jordan anyway?"

"They're ten hours ahead, so just after seven at night." After a moment's hesitation, she reached out and hugged him quickly. "It was good to see you again, Gregory," she whispered in his ear. "So very good."

"It was," he whispered in reply. He stepped back, looking deep into her blue eyes. "But, you should really get some rest," he added.

"We should have dinner. Tonight?"

"Only if you feel up to it."

She nodded. "Nothing would make me happier." Her eyes sparkled, an unspoken question dancing on them before she gave Gregory a half-smile and turned away. She looked down at Del, stretched out comfortably on the sofa. "You'll join us, won't you?"

He grinned, his teeth gleaming white as he reached for her hand. "Of course, Darlin'. Where else would I be?"

With a shrug, she pulled her hand back. "With you, one never knows," she muttered, her eyes hardening to glacial slits.

Gregory watched her back as she left, the door to the bedroom closing hard a moment later. He looked down as Del began to chuckle and cracked his knuckles. "Jet lag," he answered, seeing the questioning look on Gregory's face. "She hates the time change."

"Who doesn't?"

"I guess." He sat up, leaning forward on his knees. "Makes her difficult to deal with…" he sighed, gazing off into the distance. "Irritable…"

"Speaking of irritable," Gregory interjected, clearing his throat. "I ran into Annie in the lobby just now."

Del smirked and sat back, resting his feet on the glass coffee table. "I imagine she gave you quite the earful."

"Somewhat." He paused for a moment, waiting for Del's full attention. "She had a gun on her."

With a loud chuckle, he stood and rolled his shoulders. "She must've heard Olivia was back in the same time zone as her. The two of them have _never_ gotten along."

"She seemed quite upset."

"As she should be. Her free ride is about to end," he snapped, a dark look clouding his face. "Did she tell you she got kicked out of law school and used the tuition money to pay off tabs she ran up at nightclubs up and down the coast?" He rubbed the back of his neck as he growled, "Little tart's a thief, just like her mother."

"If you called her that, I'm not surprised she's skulking around the lobby with a gun."

"If Annie had the guts to _do_ anything with that gun, I might re-consider cutting her off. At least then I'd know she's got a backbone."

"I wouldn't test her," he replied. "Does she know about the new will?"

Del shrugged. "She will…eventually. Though I don't plan on kicking the bucket for a long, long time."


	2. Straight Up with a Twist

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Two: "Straight Up with a Twist"

Olivia stepped into the lobby and drew her black shawl around her bare shoulders, the graceful sound of a piano greeting her. She glanced over to the reception desk before she turned in a small circle, her eyes sweeping the vast marble hall. A bellboy walked by, pushing a cart of luggage. When he passed, she could see her daughter sitting quietly by the fountain. "There you are!" she exclaimed, walking over.

Louise Douglas looked up slowly, dark hair framing her rosy cheeks. She closed the book and set it in her lap, the water bubbling around her. "Didn't you see my note?"

"Of course. It just didn't say _where_ in the lobby I'd find you."

The girl shrugged and met her mother's gaze. "I heard you and Dad fighting."

The armchair was double wide, allowing Olivia to sit comfortably next to her daughter. "Sorry," she said, smoothing her daughter's hair down. "It was-"

"Kind of hard to ignore." She squirmed beneath her mother's touch and asked, "What were you arguing about?"

"Nothing really, Darling." She watched Louise shake her head, her throat working as she turned to her mother.

"But-"

Olivia smiled, cupping her daughter's face. "There's nothing for you to worry about. I promise." She kissed her nose and stood, holding out her had. "Come along. We have a reservation."

The girl stood, looking past her mother. "Where's Dad? Isn't he coming?" She watched her mother's face turn, darkness clouding her expression. "Why not?" she asked, clutching the slim paperback to her chest.

The darkness receded, Olivia's eyes brightening as she explained, "He'll be late. An important overseas call came in that he needed to take."

"Oh." She followed her mother across the lobby and through the marble arches to the hotel's restaurant.

Olivia hid her mouth behind her hand, swallowing back a yawn as she scanned the restaurant. The soft lighting made her eyes strain, the quiet hum of conversation over the clink of flatware echoing in her ears. "Do you see Gregory?"

"Right. Because I've met him _so_ many times to know what he looks like," Louise said sarcastically, causing her mother to glance sharply at her. "Sorry," she replied meekly.

"I think we may be early," Olivia decided.

"Of course we are." She sighed, stifling a yawn as she dropped her book into her mother's handbag. "I'm so tired. Why couldn't we just stay in bed and order room service?"

"The sooner we get used to the time, the better it will be," Olivia explained, wrapping her arm around her daughter's shoulders. The teenager sighed and closed her eyes, resting her head against her mother's shoulder. "You can't do that from your bed."

"Couldn't we start tomorrow?" she mumbled, batting glassy eyes at her mother.

She smiled and kissed her daughter's head. "It'll be an early night," she promised, smoothing down her daughter's dark hair. "That is, if your father and Gregory ever get here."

"_Good evening_."

They turned, fixing two pairs of sapphire blue eyes on the man before them. "Hello, Gregory," Olivia said, smiling widely. "Are we early or are you late?" A pretty blonde stood next to him, her ice blue dress complementing her golden complexion.

"I believe we are late," he admitted. "There was a minor crisis with- what was it again?"

Caitlin flashed an embarrassed smile, shrugging apologetically. "An unruly zipper," she explained, holding out her hand politely. "I hope you weren't waiting long. I'm Caitlin, by the way."

"Yes, hello. I'm Olivia." She cupped her daughter's hip and nudged her forward, explaining, "Gregory, Caitlin, this is my daughter, Louise."

"Pleased to meet you both," the young girl replied politely.

Gregory grinned, his eyes lighting up. "Well, if she's not the spitting image of Little Olivia Blake." She smirked, shaking her head as he chuckled. "Where's Del?"

Louise's eyes flickered to her mother, listening as she explained, "He had to take a call. He'll join us as soon as he's finished."

"Well then, shall we?" he asked, offering Olivia his arm.

"Please." She glanced over her shoulder, Caitlin and Louise making small talk as they followed their respective parents into the restaurant. "I've promised Louise an early evening."

"Yes, I imagine the two of you must be exhausted." She nodded, letting him lead her past the maitre d' and to a quiet corner of the restaurant. Tall marble columns surrounded the table, creating the illusion of privacy. Crème-colored tapers flickered on the table, scattering faint golden light over the delicate crystal. "Del won't mind if we get started with drinks, will he?"

"No." Gregory's hands rested on her shoulders as he guided her into a high-backed chair before taking the seat next to her. "He probably wouldn't mind missing the whole evening," she muttered under her breath.

"Oh?" He looked up from giving the wine list a cursory glance. She squirmed under his questioning gaze, suddenly wishing she could take back her exasperated statement. He watched as she shrugged, her hands falling to her lap with her napkin. "Why do you say that?"

She looked up slowly when he reached out, his hand going around her wrist. With a shake of her head, she cast a pointed glance at her daughter, who was chatting quietly with Caitlin. "Never mind. I don't know what I'm saying," she lied, knowing by the look on Gregory's face that he didn't believe her. She lifted her head, biting back as sigh. "You shouldn't listen to a word I've said," she said finally, forcing a smile to her face.

"Really? Why's that?" She pursed her lips, his persistence annoying her. He sat back when the waiter stepped over, beginning a litany of the house specialties. As the waiter went on, Gregory watched as she looked away abruptly, snapping the napkin open to spread it on her lap. "Would you like a drink?" he asked her.

She turned, her eyes falling on the smiling waiter. "Vodka martini, straight up with a twist." Pause. "Make it a double. Please." The waiter nodded, moving around the table to their daughters.

"So, why shouldn't I listen to you?"

With a faux pleasant smile, she shrugged innocently, letting her black shawl fall from her shoulders. "Because I'm exhausted," she said simply. She listened as he ordered a bottle of wine and turned to the girls. "And what are you two talking about?"

Caitlin smiled, reaching for her ice water. "Oh, just giving Louise some tips on the ins and outs of St. Agnes'."

"Mom, Caitlin knows almost all the advanced studies teachers. She said they are pretty intense."

"Well, Louise, you seem like a very intelligent young lady. I'm sure you'll be able to handle them."

The young girl beamed at Gregory's compliment, her cheeks glowing bashfully. "I do alright," she said softly.

"There's her mother's modesty that I knew so well all those years ago," Gregory said, causing Olivia to quietly roll her eyes. "What subjects are in you interested in, Louise?"

"Literature and music, mostly."

"Oh? Do you play?" Caitlin asked.

"Violin, mostly. And, some piano," she added nonchalantly.

"Very neat." Caitlin smiled enviously, glancing at her father as she explained, "Music and I were never friends. I love listening to it, but I hated practicing. Scales - ugh!"

"All those years of piano lessons - wasted," he joked.

Olivia smiled as the young woman shook her head distastefully. "Louise has a natural talent," she said, causing her daughter to grin and blush.

The waiter returned, placing Olivia's martini before her. She reached for it and quickly brought it to her lips. Over the rim of the glass, she saw her daughter's worried gaze. With a reassuring smile and wink, she took a small sip, the vodka instantly warming her throat.

"A toast," Gregory said, raising his glass. Olivia quickly lowered her glass, swallowing discreetly as he turned to her. "Del will get a toast when he joins us, so this one is for Olivia." He paused for a moment, contemplating the way her eyes narrowed every time her husband was mentioned. "Welcome home, Little Olivia Blake. It's been too long." She grinned softly, her eyes falling as he continued, "To the start of many more dinners like this." His glass gently touched hers as she looked up, their gazes meeting. "You should smile more," he said softly. "It suits you."

With a shrug, she took a long sip of her martini and sat back, letting the idle chatter of their daughters wash over her.

* * *

"Long call."

Olivia blinked, looking up from her salmon. "Hmm?"

"Del."

She nodded, reaching for her martini. "It happens. I'm sure he'll be along…shortly."

"You know," he murmured, slicing into his filet mignon with abandon, "I don't remember you being a liar." He eyed her carefully, watching as she stiffened, her eyebrow arched tellingly.

"I don't really think that's fair to say. After all, despite all your comments about 'Little Olivia Blake', you didn't know me. Not really."

"You're right." He set his fork and knife aside as she chuckled into her glass. "But, that doesn't mean I never noticed you."

She glanced up, her eyes catching the glow from the candles. "Well…" she said softly, lowering her glass. "A lot of good that did." His eyes narrowed, confused and she quickly shook her head. "And now, I'm a liar."

"Am I wrong?"

"Not about not knowing me. Before today, you hadn't seen me for over twenty years."

"Ah, that was unfortunate. All those joint family vacations we tried to plan never really worked out, did they?"

She nodded. "Someone was always sick or had a broken leg…or had a case he couldn't get out of." A wistful look came over her, clouding her eyes as she smiled sadly. "We should've tried harder. We were all such good friends when we were younger."

"Bette always gave us news as to how you and Del were."

"Likewise. I'm sure she would've joined us tonight but she's in Monterey, shopping for a-"

"New husband?"

She laughed, a spontaneous burst of noise that danced out of her mouth. He smiled, happy to see her momentarily like the way she was when he knew her as a young girl. "That's…not nice," she finally said, clearing her throat of laughter, though she was unable to wipe the smirk from her lips. "I believe she's redecorating and looking for some paintings."

He grinned. "Or, the _artist_."

"Stop."

He watched her glance down, pushing her salmon around the plate before finally giving up and setting the fork aside. "You're right though," he said after a long moment. "We should've tried harder. Alex-" He broke off abruptly, clearing his throat before he continued, "always wanted more family vacations. She missed traveling."

"You know, in one of the last letters she wrote to me, she congratulated me on finally beating her passport stamp record."

"That sounds like her." He toyed with the stem of his glass, swirling the wine before he took a long sip. "I didn't want her to give up her work," he explained quietly, "but she wanted to stay home with Caitlin and Sean. She didn't when her son, Casey, was small and I think she always regretted it. But, I know she was itching to get back to it." He looked up at her, sympathy painted on her face. "Every time she got a letter from you, she treasured the foreign post mark like it was long-lost treasure."

"I suppose to an adventurer like her, it was," she said. She raised her glass, tilting it to him. "To Alex," she whispered. He forced a smile, gently clinking his glass against hers.

* * *

It was more than mid-way through the dinner when a flurry of excitement rippled through the air. The hushed whispers from the patrons took on a fevered pitch as two uniformed officers escorted a young detective through the restaurant. Gregory glanced up as the trio reached their table, their faces grim. "Detective, I didn't realize you'd be joining us."

"Good evening, Mr. Richards," Ricardo said, glancing around the table and nodding to the ladies. "Mrs. Douglas?" Olivia turned, looking up. "I'm Detective Torres, SBPD. May I have a word with you, please?"

"Hold on, Olivia." He held out his hand, stopping her from standing. "What's this about, Torres?"

He glanced pointedly at Caitlin and Louise and nodded when Gregory stood, understanding. "We can speak just over here, if you'd like, Mrs. Douglas." As she stood, he turned to Gregory and whispered, "You should come too."

The detective led Olivia away from the table, only one of the marble columns separating them from the young girls and the rest of the restaurant. "What's happened?" she asked, her voice tight. The young man shuffled nervously, his once-crisp shirt horribly wrinkled. She felt Gregory behind her, close enough that if she barely moved back, she'd be against his chest. "Please."

Ricardo met her eyes, watching her falter as he said, "Mrs. Douglas, your husband was shot in your hotel suite." The color drained from her face as she froze, leaning back against Gregory for support. He gripped her hips, one arm sliding around her waist to steady her. "He's unconscious. The paramedics are taking him to the hospital."

She nodded, her head swimming as a dull hum filled her ears. She barely heard Gregory ask about the hospital and a moment later, she let him lead her away, following the detective out of the restaurant. "Lou-" she murmured, wrenching around for her daughter.

"Officer Stevens will bring her and Miss Richards to the hospital in a separate car," Ricardo explained, hurrying them through the lobby. "Don't worry, Mrs. Douglas. Your husband is in excellent hands. He'll pull through."

Gregory held her arm, feeling her weight slide against him as she blindly met his concerned eyes. She shook her head, murmuring for his ears only, "I doubt it."


	3. The Hours

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Three: "The Hours"

"I need to call Bette."

"Do you know where she's staying in Monterey?" Gregory asked.

Olivia shook her head, her eyes burning as she looked over at him. "I didn't even ask when we spoke. It was a quick phone call, but she said she would be back in the morning." She closed her eyes, leaning back into the uncomfortable plastic chair. A thought popped into her mind and she sighed, opening her eyes slowly. "Perhaps Annie will know."

Louise sat up, the name of her half-sister causing a knot to twist in her stomach. She slid over, wincing as the sharp plastic dug into the back of her thighs. Her hand slipped into her mother's and she smiled when she felt her squeeze. She leaned her head against her mother's shoulder, whispering, "What about Tom?"

She shivered, grateful for Gregory's coat that he draped around her. "Not yet," she murmured, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Not until your father is out of surgery. I- I need to have _something_ to tell Thomas, other than someone shot your father."

"Dad will be ok thought, won't he?"

She looked down at her daughter, who suddenly seemed much younger than her fourteen years. Her chin quivered, tears clouding her blue eyes and causing them to shine. "I don't know, Lou." The girl fell against her mother, choking back a sob as she repeated in a hushed whisper, "I don't know."

Gregory stood tall, wincing as his back cracked and popped. He crossed the small waiting area to Olivia, his hand gentle on her shoulder. She looked up, her face pale and her eyes dull. "Coffee?"

She shook her head, running her hand over Louise's hair as she replied, "I don't think I could stomach anything right now." She looked up, smiling tiredly. "Thank you though."

He smiled in return, a reply on his lips when the frenzied sound of high heels rushing down the linoleum floor preceded the angry voice that shouted, _"You shot my father, you bitch!"_

Olivia sighed, barely able to control the annoyed way her eyes rolled. She pulled Gregory's jacket tighter around her as Louise sat up, wiping her eyes. They stood, facing Annie Douglas together as she stormed around the nurse's station. "You couldn't wait, could you?" the younger woman shouted as Gregory caught her, holding her back. "Twenty years of robbing him blind wasn't enough, was it?"

"Nice to see you too, Annie," she muttered as the red head shrugged Gregory off and fell into the arms of the brooding man behind her.

"My father," she wailed, her mascara running down her face as she clung to Ben Evans. "She wants his money! She wants him dead!"

As Gregory turned back to Olivia, he saw Ricardo leaning against the wall, watching the unfolding scene with great interest. He cleared his throat and nodded to Ben, who shrugged and glanced pointedly at the sobbing wreck that was Annie. "Annie, this isn't the time or place for that," he said, his voice low and guarded.

Her head flew up, her green eyes narrowed. "Ricardo, I want you to take my statement," she insisted, ignoring the way Gregory glared at her as she pointed across the waiting room at her step-mother. "There are things you need to know about my step-mother. She's a dangerous and vindictive woman!"

"Oh, please!" Olivia snapped, ignoring the way Louise gripped her arm, holding her back. "_I_ wasn't the one stalking Del through the hotel with a loaded gun this morning!" For a moment, the younger woman faltered, her accusatory finger falling and Olivia seized the moment, stepping past Gregory to glare at her. "Did you think your father didn't tell me about that? Or about how you lost it when he cut you off after he found out you dropped out of law school?"

The old antagonism rose to the surface and the air between the two women crackled, hissing in the silence. They glared at each other, blue on green, daring each other to make the next move. Gregory cleared his throat, putting his hand on Olivia's arm as he gently pulled her back, Ben doing the same for Annie. "Not now," he growled in her ear, knocking his head back in the direction of the detective. "He's not waiting around because he's concerned about Del surviving surgery."

Her eyes flew up, finally showing an iota of fear before she straightened her spine and retreated into her armor. "I've got nothing to hide," she hissed, folding her arms defiantly against her chest. She turned back to her daughter, cupping her face before she drew her into an embrace, murmuring an apology.

He watched them turn away, sinking back to the torturous plastic chairs in unison. As he sat next to them, he noticed the glare Louise shot across the waiting room at her half-sister. He sighed, leaning forward on his knees to clasp his hands together as he sighed deeply. A hand touched his shoulder a moment later and he didn't even need to look up to know who it was. "How are you doing?" Caitlin whispered, stifling a yawn as she sat next to him.

"Can I let you know?" She smiled sadly and leaned over, placing a soft kiss on his cheek before she reached for his hand. "How about you?"

The young blonde shrugged as she gave the waiting room and its inhabitants a cursory glance. "I hate this hospital."

Gregory nodded, knowing all too well how familiar they were with South Bay, visiting daily until Alex made the decision to come home on hospice care. He squeezed his daughter's hand, feeling her shudder. "Why don't you take off?" he suggested softly. "Go home and get some sleep."

She nodded, relieved to be excused as she stood. "What about you?"

He turned back to Olivia and Louise, watching them for a long moment before he shook his head. "I don't think they should be alone."

She shook her head, watching as her father opened his phone. "No," she agreed. "Definitely not with Annie here." She listened as he called their chauffeur, arranging for him to pick her up.

"Gregory?" He turned to Olivia, listening as she asked softly, "Would you mind if I sent Louise home with Caitlin?"

The teenager leapt up before he could respond, protesting, "Mom, I'm _not_ leaving! Dad's still in surgery-"

"And he will be for several more hours," she interrupted, sighing tiredly. Her shoulders collapsed as she reached for her daughter's hand. "Please, Lou. With all the traveling and now this, you haven't had a decent rest in days." She ignored the way the teenager glared at her and turned to Gregory, asking, "Do you know when we'll be able to get her clothes from the hotel?"

"It's an active crime scene," he explained, shaking his head. "It could be days."

Caitlin cleared her throat, smiling brightly for the younger girl's benefit. "I'm sure I've got some things you could borrow."

Louise was silent, feeling the eyes of the waiting room on her before she felt her mother take her hand and whisper, "Please, Lulu…for me?"

She sighed, recognizing defeat in the face of her childhood pet name. "Fine," she muttered as her mother stood, kissing her head. "Call me when you hear something about Dad?"

"Of course, Darling." Olivia watched her daughter turn and leave with Caitlin, Annie's eyes following her as she left. "Thank you," she said, turning back to Gregory. "She's forgotten how exhausted she was before dinner."

"There's no need to thank me. Where else are you and she going to go? The hotel's not an option, not with the media crawling all over it."

She exhaled deeply, covering her mouth. "I didn't even think about that," she sighed, pulling his jacket tighter around her. "You don't think they'll find out Louise is at your home and try to speak to her there, do you?"

"I'm a criminal defense attorney," he reminded her. "My home is safer than Fort Knox. And," he added, "I'll speak to Torres about getting yours and Louise's clothes from your hotel room."

She smiled and took his hand, squeezing gratefully. "Gregory…what would I do without you?"

* * *

"Was all of that necessary?"

Annie glared at Ben, his question dripping with condescension. "Yes," she hissed. She glared across the waiting room at Olivia, engrossed in conversation with Gregory. "What do you think they're talking about?" she asked, jutting her chin in their direction.

Ben sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "I don't know," he murmured. "Maybe your sister? She looked pretty shaken up."

"_Half_-sister."

"Annie-"

"Don't 'Annie' me," she snapped, turning her glare on him. "That little girl is a bigger threat to me than you realize. Her, her brother and her mother."

"Threat? Annie, you're not thinking clearly."

"Oh, no. I'm thinking _very_ clear. I have my inheritance to think of."

He grabbed her arm, jerking her close to him as he hissed, "You shouldn't be thinking about that. Your father is still alive." She wrenched her arm free as Ricardo strolled by, thoughtfully chewing on a toothpick. "But, if he should die," he whispered, glancing in the detective's direction, "Ricardo is going to remember comments like that and wonder if they were motive for murder."

"Whatever."

"This is not a 'whatever' situation, Annie," he insisted, suddenly fed up with trying to reason with her. But he couldn't resist one last question: "And, just what the hell are you doing with a gun?"

She glanced over, her green eyes sly as she shrugged innocently.

* * *

Olivia jerked, wrenching awake from a dreamless sleep. She sat up, her eyes blurry and dry in the face of the unforgiving fluorescent lighting. The beginning of a headache pounded in her skull, causing her to whimper as she leaned forward, her head in her hands.

"Here drink this," a deep voice said, holding out a paper cup of something hot and steamy. She looked up, squinting as Gregory's face materialized through the blurriness, her focus steadying to see the exhaustion on his face. She took the offering, drawn to the warmth and sipped tentatively. He chuckled when she grimaced and softly explained, "Probably the worst cup of coffee you'll ever have."

She nodded, taking another sip as she turned to him. "What time is it?" she asked.

"Just after one-thirty in the morning."

"Has the doctor come by?"

"No. No one," he replied, watching as her eyes swept the room, ultimately landing on her step-daughter. Annie was curled up against Ben, clinging to him even in her fitful sleep. "She's been here the whole time."

"Yes," she said simply, gesturing to them. "Are they dating?"

He chuckled even as he shook his head, leaning in as he explained, "Ben's a widower. His late wife was Annie's good friend."

"Maria. I remember Annie talking about her." She turned to him, smiling tiredly as she explained, "Despite what Annie would like everyone to think, the children and I weren't complete strangers to her."

"I know that."

"She's just always wanted more than Del was willing to give her, financially and emotionally." She sighed, looking down at her lap. "Unfortunately, she's a living reminder of Madeline and Del's ego could never take that she left him."

"That's hardly Annie's fault."

"Of course, it isn't." Olivia watched her step-daughter, the fiery red hair a stunning contrast to the Englishman's thick white sweater. "But, it's the truth all the same. He's never been the father to her that he is to Thomas and Louise." She turned back to Gregory, her eyes sad as she explained, "She resents them for it. And, she resents me for making them even a factor in her life."

Gregory nodded. "Step-children aren't easy," he said quietly. "Alex's son and I have never seen eye-to-eye…on _anything_."

She leaned in, grateful for the moment to talk about something else other than her fractured family. "I never even asked how Casey is."

"From what Caitlin tells me, he's well." He saw the way her eyebrow arched and he explained, "They're in constant contact. He's very close to Caitlin and Sean." She smiled at that, listening as he continued, "He's in the Coral Sea, tracking whales."

"Is he happy? Bette told me he was devastated when Alex died."

He nodded. "He was devastated…and maybe still is. She was his - _our _- world." He felt her take his hand and squeeze gently. "Alex was the sun. The center of our collective universe. A part of us all died with her and Casey was no exception."

He sighed, thinking about the last time he saw the young man. It was six months after Alex died and he was at the house breaking the news to Caitlin and Sean that he was leaving. A research vessel wanted a second marine biologist for the crew and he was flying to Australia in the morning to join them. But, the pain glittering in his blue eyes hinted at the truth. He just couldn't stay in Sunset Beach, not without the mother who was the sole reason for him living in the small town in the first place.

"I think he is - _happy_," he finally answered, clearing his throat. "Caitlin and Sean visited him in Brisbane this past summer and they said he was like his old self again."

"That's good." Silence fell between them, buffered by the sounds of the emergency room, even at this hour. "That's where Thomas is: Australia," Olivia said after several minutes. "He's working on a sheep farm in Victoria." He felt her tremble and he looked down, forgetting she was still holding his hand. "How do I tell…" she trailed off, shaking her head. "Del is strong. He'll survive the surgery."

But there was uncertainty in her voice and she turned to him, tears in her eyes. He sat quietly, her hand icy in his as she turned away, staring across the room to Annie. "No one is ready for the loss of their father, no matter what age they are," he heard her murmur before she pulled her hand back and slipped her arms into the coat sleeves. She wrapped her arms around herself, sighing tiredly. "I just wish someone would tell us _something_."

He nodded, her pale face paler and the smudges beneath her eyes darker in the unflattering light. Her hair was limp, falling in sad waves around her face and shoulders. For the first time, he saw fine lines around her eyes and mouth, begot by anxiety. Little Olivia Blake was suddenly no more, the vibrant young girl who lived in his mind for all these years replaced by Olivia Douglas, the woman already searching for the way she would tell her children their father was dead.

"There's no reason to think he won't be alright," he said softly and he felt her nod slowly. "He's too stubborn to allow anything else," he deadpanned, making her chuckle as she wiped her eyes.

"He is stubborn," she sighed, a deep exhale that puffed out her cheeks. "Too stubborn."

Gregory cleared his throat, glancing around the near-deserted waiting room, the ever-present detective dozing in the opposite corner, before he asked in a quiet whisper, "Was Del in trouble?" She looked up, confused…or doing an admirable job of feigning confusion, he decided. "Who could have shot him?" he asked simply, her eyes narrowing.

"I don't know," she replied, forcing the lie out of her mouth. She sat quietly, surrendering to the scrutiny he put her through as his eyes moved over her. He shook his head, surprisingly irritated by the calm way she sat next to him, waiting. A nerve quaked within her when he turned away, glaring at the floor. "Del made," she finally said, searching for the right words, "_unorthodox_ choices in his business."

"So, he was shot because of some business deal?"

She shrugged, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "I told you, I really don't know who would've wanted to shoot him."

He frowned, glancing sharply. "You do know you can trust me, don't you?" Her eyes fell, wringing her hands until he reached out and covered them. "Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked softly. He felt her freeze, heard the way she drew in her breath. "You said 'I doubt it' when Torres tried to reassure you about Del." She looked up slowly, their eyes locking. The corner of her mouth twitched as she suddenly grew paler, her blue eyes dancing nervously. "I can help you," he insisted, squeezing her hand. "Did you shoot Del?"

Her lips parted as her face turned, the expression melding from nervousness to something darker and more primal. It was the look of fight, he realized as she cocked her head, her lips pursing. "I don't know what you mean," she said slowly, extracting her hands from his.

He sighed as she moved away, the closeness between them evaporating. "Fine," he said as she crossed one leg over the other and folded her hands primly in her lap. "What did you mean by 'I doubt it' then?"

"Gregory," she sighed, turning to him with the look she would give a child she was trying to reason with, "I don't even remember saying that. I was in shock. I couldn't even walk without your help, remember?"

With a tight smile, he leaned in and whispered, "When you're ready to tell me the truth, I'll be waiting."

She was about to reply when the doors pushed open, an exhausted looking doctor in a hideous shade of scrubs coming through them. "Mrs. Douglas?" he asked, his question echoing in the silence. Annie jerked awake, shaking Ben as Gregory stood. She nodded, standing slowly as he traversed the space between them. She saw the regret clouding his eyes and in an instant, she knew. She stood quietly, watching the doctor's mouth move.

_One of the bullets punctured your husband's left lung…_

_We did everything we could…_

_He never regained consciousness…_

Behind him, Annie screamed and buried her face in Ben's chest as the doctor concluded, "I'm so sorry for your loss."

She nodded dumbly, Annie's sobs ringing around her. She was aware of Gregory talking, asking the questions that she should be asking. But instead, she turned away, pulling his coat around her as she walked past them. She felt Ricardo's eyes on her, watching her as she left the waiting room, ignoring the way Annie shrieked her name.

Stumbling out the ER's main doors, she took in the night air, breathing deep. A foggy mist hung in the night and she began walking, disappearing into it as she left the hospital behind. Her heels clicked on the pavement, complimenting the pounding of her heart. Gently, a smile came to her face, growing in intensity. She pressed her hands to her cheeks and sighed before whispering, "Thank you."

She stopped short beneath a street light, turning her face to the heavens, repeating her mantra of thanksgiving. Slowly, she closed her eyes, letting the sweet feeling of relief wash over her. The seconds stretched to minutes, the minutes to hours as she stood there, reveling in the sudden silence after all the noise from the hospital. But there she stood, firmly rooted to the sidewalk as the fog enveloped her.

Somewhere, a weight had been lifted and she reveled in the newfound freedom, forgetting all else. "Finally," she sighed, pressing her hands to her heart.


	4. Haven

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Four: "Haven"

Gregory turned into the driveway, putting the car in park and shutting the engine off in one fluid motion. He sat for a moment, looking through the windshield at his home. The windows were dark, all signs indicating Caitlin and Louise were asleep. But the exterior lights were on, spotlights that shot beams of golden light up the façade of the modern house of glass and wood. Haven, Alex called it the first time she saw it.

And, Haven it had been, both in name and spirit.

Next to him, Olivia shifted, the leather of the passenger seat giving quietly. She hadn't said a word to him since he found her on the street, standing beneath a street lamp in a pool of light. The fog had reflected the light around her, catching on her diamond earrings and giving her an ethereal glow. He had hustled her into the Jaguar, eager to tuck her away before Ricardo began asking why she left the hospital moments after hearing her husband was dead.

"I hope they're asleep," he heard her say, her voice surprisingly even.

"I think so." He turned, watching her carefully. "You should sleep too."

She shook her head, leaning back against the headrest. "I need to call Thomas. He needs to know about Del. I need to make arrangements to get him back from Australia."

He nodded and her eyes fell. "Let me know what I can do to help," he said after a long moment and she turned to him, making eye contact. With a grateful smile, her eyes lit up for a moment. "With Thomas…or anything _else_."

Her smile morphed into a smirk and she turned forward, blindly gazing up at the house. "Thank you."

The automatic locks clicked as Gregory unlocked the doors and they got out of the car in unison. She turned in a small circle, glancing from the house to the expanse of the gated property. "It's nicer to look at in the daylight," she heard him say and she turned, following him up to the front door. A security alarm warning chirped as they walked in and he went to the keypad, disarming it. A moment later, the lights came alive, filling the foyer and living room with soft golden hues. "Drink?" he asked.

She nodded, happy to slip off his coat after the hours she spent wrapped in it. He watched as she draped it over the arm of the sofa and wandered around the living room, drawn to the framed photos on every available surface. "Whatever you're having," she said, rubbing her arms as she smiled at an old photo of Casey, Caitlin and Sean, dressed in their Easter Sunday finest.

"Scotch then," he said, walking over to the bar. "Maybe a double," he decided after a moment, the liquid bubbling into the crystal. She turned and he held out her glass, which she took quietly. Her hands cupped the cool crystal as she sank into the sofa, sliding her feet out of her Italian pumps.

"There's so many photos," she marveled after a long moment, turning back to him. He nodded over the rim of the glass as he leaned back in the arm chair. "I guess that's the benefit of marrying a photographer."

"Alex always said she gave up the wild for three more rambunctious subjects." He leaned forward, reaching for a particular frame. "I think there were times she preferred an African water hole to the children."

She took the ornate frame, smiling instantly. The photo captured the three blonde children, wrestling together in the mud. "That was in Tahoe," she heard him say as she set it aside, taking a deep gulp of the scotch. Her throat burned and she winced. "Sorry," she gasped. "I'm probably keeping you up."

"It's fine." He sat still as she stood, padding around the living room in her bare feet. Her cocktail dress was beyond wrinkled, the hours-old creases burned into the silk.

She clutched the scotch, knocking her head back for another sip before she turned back to him. "I need to call my son. It's evening in Australia…or later, I think," she faltered, the liquor warming her empty stomach.

"Of course," he said, standing. "I can show you to the guest room where Louise is-"

"No," she interrupted. "I want her to sleep." She sighed, coming around the table to stand before him. "Morning will come soon enough…and then she'll know about her father."

He gestured to the phone next to the sofa. "Call from here then." She nodded, staring at the phone with some trepidation and he reached out, touching her arm. "Were they close? Del and the children?"

Olivia smiled wistfully, sitting on the arm of the sofa as she explained, "When he was small, Thomas wanted to do everything like Del. If his father wore a blue shirt, he needed to wear one too." She closed her eyes, remembering the way the little boy would shadow his father, mimicking his hand gestures and expressions. "And then, he grew up, like we all do, and realized that his father was not the hero he idolized, but a person…with flaws. But, Louise…she," she sighed, opening her eyes, "_adored_ her father."

He nodded as she perched on the corner of the sofa cushion, her hand on the phone. "I'll be down the hall in my study if you need me," he said softly, reaching down to squeeze her shoulder. She looked up, nodding before she reached for the handset, slowly bringing it to her ear.

* * *

Morning dawned, bright and brilliant. The sun scattered on the ocean, reflecting crystal beams that glittered on the crest of waves. The town slowly came awake and the seaside home, Haven, was no different. The housekeeper, Rose, let herself in and entered the kitchen. The pristine space was as she left it and she walked through to the dining room, leaving the morning papers at the head of the table.

She did a loop through the foyer, circling back around through the living room. A crystal glass sat next to the phone, a drop of amber liquid at the bottom. She picked it up, noticing a pair of black heels on the floor by the sofa. With a frown, she picked them up gently, noting they were definitely not Caitlin's style.

She turned, hearing feet on the stairs. "Good morning, Rose," Gregory said as he tightened the belt of his robe, a towel draped around his neck.

"Good morning. I found these next to the sofa," she said, holding up the mysterious shoes. "Where shall I put them?"

He glanced up, confused until he saw what she held. "Oh, those. They belong to Mrs. Douglas," he explained. "She and her daughter, Louise, are in the guest rooms. They'll be staying here. Her son, Thomas, will be joining us as well. We'll put him in Casey's old room. Do what you can to make sure they're all comfortable and they have everything they need."

"Of course. I saw the news this morning," she added, watching his expression turn. "It's terrible what happened."

"Yes. The local media is already having a field day with this. I can't wait to see what those hacks at the Sentinel make of it," he grumbled. "Is Caitlin awake?"

"I don't think so."

He was nearly to the patio when the front bell rang, followed by urgent knocking. He turned as Rose opened the door and was subsequently nearly flattened as Bette Katzenkazrahi hustled in. "Where's Olivia?" she cried, her eyes red.

"Sleeping, I imagine." He crossed the room, meeting Bette by the fireplace as Rose discreetly left. "It was after two when we got back from the hospital." She nodded, wiping her eyes, her face uncharacteristically free of makeup. "I'm sorry about Del, Bette."

She nodded, taking his outstretched hand. "Annie called me, hysterical. I drove down from Monterey as soon as I could understand what she was saying." She sighed, anxiously wringing her hands. "Then she said something about Olivia being missing?"

He shook his head. "After the doctor broke the news about Del, she left the hospital. We'd been there for hours," he explained. "We left and I brought her here."

"Has anyone told the kids?"

"Olivia called Thomas." He paused when Bette sobbed, covering her mouth as she turned away. "He's flying in. He'll be here tomorrow morning."

"What about Louise?" she croaked, her shoulders shaking as she struggled to control her sobs.

"She doesn't know yet. Olivia didn't want to wake her."

She looked over her shoulder, sniffling. "And Olivia. How is she?"

He thought of Olivia, her suspicious comments and the dead look in her eyes. "More concerned about the children than anything," he finally replied.

"God," she sighed, pressing her hands to her cheeks as she collapsed on the sofa. "Does anyone know _what_ happened? Annie said he was shot."

He shook his head. "The police are investigating."

"A robbery?" she asked hopefully, desperate for an explanation that would make this tragedy easier to bear. "Lord knows there's an ungodly amount of wealth in that hotel."

"Maybe."

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. "I just can't believe it. He called me yesterday to say that Olivia and Louise arrived early. He said 'We'll see you when you get back, Sis'." She scoffed ruefully, resting her head in her hand. "How quickly everything can go to hell…"

Gregory looked up as Rose hovered in the doorway, waiting. "Have you eaten? Rose can get you something," he offered, gesturing the housekeeper in.

"_Is there coffee?"_

All three turned at the soft question, finding Olivia standing at the base of the stairs. Her face was pale, her eyes puffy as she watched them. Sleep, apparently, escaped her in the hours since he'd last seen her. "Livy!" Bette gasped, jumping up.

He watched them embrace before he turned away, seeing the blank expression on Olivia's face. She was a puppet, mimicking Bette's movements as she followed her into the living room. They brushed past him, Olivia briefly making eye contact with him. He smiled and her eyes softened, closing briefly as her sister-in-law's arms went around her.

* * *

"Keep the change," Sean Richards sighed, pressing a wad of bills into the taxi driver's outstretched hand. He hauled his duffle bag out of the cab, eyeing the house for a long moment before he began the slow walk to the front door. He wasn't looking forward to his father's reaction to his arrival and didn't mind putting off the inevitable.

The house was quiet when he stepped into it and he dropped his bag unceremoniously on the floor. "Anyone home? Cait?" he called, his voice echoing. He strolled into the living room, the rich scent of coffee in the air. "Rose?"

From behind him, a pair of feet thundered down the stairs and he turned in time to catch his sister. "Whoa!" he exclaimed as she squeezed him tight, sighing his name. "Nice to see you too," he chuckled. "What's with the greeting? We just saw each other at Christmas."

She stepped back, barely able to contain her excited grin. "Just happy to see you, little brother."

"Yeah…" He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced around nervously. "Dad here?"

"He's in his study with Olivia."

"Olivia?"

"Olivia Douglas." She frowned, watching him carefully. "Haven't you heard?"

"Heard what?"

Caitlin exhaled deeply and folded her arms against her chest. "About Del…I thought that's why you were here."

He shook his head, his eyes wide. "No, what happened to him?"

"Del's dead," she explained. "He was shot in his hotel room."

"Wow…do they know who did it?" She shook her head and he sighed. "Unreal. Wasn't Dad was just talking about him and his family moving back to Sunset Beach?" She nodded. "Is Dad doing ok?"

"Yes, I think so. He's been helping Olivia and Del's sister try and plan the funeral. They have to wait until the medical examiner finishes the autopsy, but I think it's going to be this weekend."

"Does Annie know?"

"Yes. She…didn't take the news well." He nodded, studiously gazing at the floor and she sighed, knowing he was thinking of their mother. Alex's absence was never more apparent than in the melancholic presence of her youngest child. "They're staying here," she said softly, changing the subject slightly. "Olivia and her children."

He looked up, clearing his throat. "How old are they?"

"Thomas is eighteen. He'll be here tomorrow. Louise is upstairs in the guest room. She's only fourteen."

"That's tough," he sighed. Their eyes met knowingly and she nodded sadly. "I'm going to go unpack," he finally said, brushing past her.

"How long are you staying?" she asked, following him to the foyer.

He shrugged. "Awhile," he said, avoiding her curious gaze.

"Sean, not _again_," she exclaimed and he blushed, embarrassed. "Seriously? You got expelled? Daddy is going to kill you."

"Do me a favor then? Don't tell him."

"Sean, our father is a busy man, but he's not stupid. He's going to notice that you're here and not going back to school."

"I'm going to tell him," he insisted. "Just…not right now. In a few days, when things calm down, I'll break the news to him." He sighed and pouted, an expression that always brought out his sister's maternal instincts. "Help me run interference with him? Please, Cait?"

"Fine," she sighed, shaking her head as her brother grabbed his bag and trotted upstairs.

* * *

"Your espresso," the waitress said, smiling at her handsome customer. He returned her smile, dimples materializing to complement his dark eyes. She rested her hip against the table, ignoring her other customers as his eyes trailed the length of her body. Encouraged, she giggled and asked, "Do you want anything else? Biscotti, maybe?"

Cole St. John shook his head, chuckling. "I don't think so," he said, leaning forward. "But, if I change my mind, can I let you know?" He grinned when she nodded eagerly and a schoolgirl's blush tinged her cheeks. "Should I just wave you over if I do?"

"Or you can call me," she stammered.

"Well, I can't call you if I don't know your phone number."

"I'll write it on your receipt," she whispered, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Great." He watched her turn away, nearly colliding with another waitress holding a cappuccino-laden tray. Resisting the urge to laugh, he settled for a satisfied smirk. It was always amusing to wield the power he held over the female of the species.

He glanced around the coffee shop, unimpressed with it and the small town he'd been stuck in for the last week. A discarded newspaper on a neighboring table caught his attention and he reached for it. "Let's see what passes for journalism in this one-horse town," he said, his voice flat. An angry headline above the fold urgently announced the town's first murder of 1997. "_International Oil Tycoon Found Dead_," he read, feigning shock. "_Foul Play Suspected_."

Shaking his head regretfully, he clicked his tongue and folded the paper. "What. A. Shame."

* * *

Olivia looked over when Gregory hung up the phone, sighing deeply. "The police are sending over yours and Louise's luggage later this afternoon. They've been deemed 'not material' to Del's murder investigation." She nodded, turning her face back up to the ceiling. "Why don't you go lay down?" he suggested, watching the way she was slowly fading.

She shook her head, hugging a pillow to her chest. "No. There's so much to do…and you've done enough as it is."

"I don't mind," he said simply. He watched her quietly, wearing an ancient pair of his sweatpants and an old sweater. In the ill-fitting clothes, she somehow looked like a lost child, abandoned and forgotten. "There really isn't a rush either. Until the police release Del's body to the funeral home…"

"I know," she interrupted, looking up at him with tired eyes. "I just…need to do…something."

"You can rest," he pointed out. "Go upstairs and sleep."

Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head. "I need to find somewhere for the children and I to stay," she murmured, wincing as her head began to ache.

"You'll stay here, of course." She glanced over, surprised. "It's not as if I don't have the room."

"Gregory, I can't ask you to do that," she said quietly, leaning up on the arm of the sofa.

"You didn't ask. I offered."

"I don't know what to say," she whispered finally.

He stood, coming around the desk. "Say yes. Stay here, you and your children." He smiled when she looked up, weepy. Crouching to her level, he explained softly, "And, you'll stay as long as you need to."

"I-" His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head, daring her to argue. "Yes," she finally said and he patted her hand, standing. "Do you always get what you want?"

"Usually," he grinned as a soft knock on the study door interrupted them. "Come in."

The door opened and Caitlin poked her head in, smiling apologetically. "Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all," he said, gesturing her in as he turned back to his desk. "Everything alright?"

She balked, glancing quickly to Olivia. The older woman sat up, moving to leave when Caitlin said, "You can stay. It's nothing bad." She turned back to her father, smiling as she explained, "Sean's home."

His head flew up. "Is he in trouble?"

Pause. "No."

Gregory eyed his daughter, her blue eyes wide as she feigned innocence. "Caitlin," he said, a hint of warning in his voice.

"Honest, Daddy! Sean's fine. He- he heard about Del," she said softly, forcing the lie from her mouth as her eyes fell.

He was quiet, digesting that explanation before he nodded. "Well, then," he said turning from Caitlin to Olivia, "it looks like we'll have a full house."


	5. Meaner than a Texas Rattlesnake

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Five: "Meaner Than a Texas Rattlesnake"

"Come in." Olivia smoothed the black pantyhose over her calf before she stepped into her leather pump. She turned around, surprised to find Gregory standing in the open doorway. "Oh…I thought you were Thomas."

A dull smile came to his lips as he stepped into the guest room. "Did you need him?" She shook her head, smoothing down her silk blouse as she stepped into the other shoe. "He's downstairs with Caitlin. They're debating the merits of study abroad programs versus a gap year."

She nodded, meeting his gaze with listless eyes. "Is he winning?"

"To Caitlin's chagrin."

She reached for her blazer and shrugged into it. "He's going to be the lawyer Del always wanted."

"There are worse careers." His deadpan humor made her smile, giving way to another sigh as she clasped her hands in front of her. "I can talk to him, if you'd like. Give him some advice before he runs off to Oxford and lets the British legal system corrupt him."

"I'm sure he'd appreciate it." She cleared her throat and stepped closer to him. "I need your help with something, if you don't mind." She waited until he nodded before she took another step and said, "You've seen the will." A statement, not a question, he realized as he said nothing. She sighed, meeting him square in the eye as she asked, "What does Annie get?"

Still, Gregory said nothing, watching her face turn as the silence grew between them. Her throat worked, anxiety rising in her as she waited. "Nothing," he replied after several moments. "Del made a new will before he died. He cut her out."

She exhaled deeply. "What happens to…everything?"

He paused again and she cocked her head, waiting expectantly. "You get the bulk of it. Bette gets something. The remainder is placed in a trust for Thomas and Louise to share."

She nodded and he watched her turn away, deep in thought. "Gregory, when you read the will-" she finally began.

"I won't."

"But you haven't even heard what I was going to ask!" she exclaimed, spinning to face him.

"No. I mean, I won't be reading the will," he explained. "Del requested a taped message - a video - be played."

"A…_video_?" she scoffed, her blue eyes darkening as anger flushed in her throat. She collapsed onto the edge of the bed, crossing her legs. "How could he do that to the children?"

He shrugged, looking down at her. "I'm sure he thought the children would be older. He most likely didn't expect to die so soon."

She chuckled, her laugh shrouded in skepticism. "That would be nice if it were true. The truth is that Del was an egotistical bastard," she muttered. She looked up sharply, regret clouding her blue eyes. "I'm sorry. He was your friend."

"I'm your friend too." He tucked his hands into his pockets, waiting as she mulled that thought over. "And, you're right. He _was_ an egotistical bastard."

She leaned back, bracing herself on her arms. "There were three of us in our marriage: me, Del and his ego." With a sigh, she closed her eyes, letting her head hang back. "It was exhausting."

He was quiet, drawn to the curve of her exposed throat. "You didn't like him very much, did you?"

Olivia sat up slowly, fixing him with a blank stare. "He was my husband. The father of my children."

He shrugged. "That doesn't mean you _liked_ him."

She smirked, cocking her head in mock thought. "Are you cross examining me, Counselor?"

He held up his hands, surrendering. "I'm just preparing you. Since you're ready to talk about the will reading, you should know that Detective Torres asked to attend."

"Why?" she murmured, a knot of foreboding settling in the pit of her stomach.

"I imagine he feels the will was motive for Del's murder." He watched her carefully, no outward sign of a reaction other than the way her eyebrow arched. "What did you want me to do with the will?"

She sat up, squaring her shoulders as she met his eyes. "Del wrote Annie out of the will. I need you to write her back in."

Gregory squinted, thoroughly confused. "Write her…_in_?" She nodded, standing slowly. He chuckled, habitually smoothing his tie, the silk devoid of wrinkles. "You do understand that you're effectively giving her a _Get-Out-of-Jail-Free_ card?"

"It doesn't matter. Annie didn't kill her father." He was suspiciously quiet, waiting for the explanation that came a moment later. "She wanted his love. Killing him wouldn't get her it." She neared him, shivering under his engrossed gaze. "Besides, she will make my life, and the lives of my children, hell if she ever found out that Del left her nothing." He nodded as she asked, "Whatever Thomas and Louise got, make sure she gets the same. Take it from what Del left me."

"You're giving away one million dollars."

She shook her head. "For peace of mind, it's worth it."

* * *

Bette looked up and gasped as her niece walked into the church vestibule. "Oh, Poopsie…" she sighed, an instant headache forming. "Why?"

The young woman took off her sunglasses and shrugged. "What?" She turned to Ben, glaring. "You said I looked fine."

"Actually," he pointed out, "I didn't say anything when you asked." He saw a storm brewing on Bette's face and he nodded, ducking into the nave.

"You wear _red_ to your father's funeral?" she hissed, grabbing her arm and dragging her behind a statue of the Virgin Mary. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" She jerked her arm back, rubbing it. "God, I thought you said it was a celebration of Daddy's life…"

"Celebration, yes. Party, _no_."

"Daddy was always the life of the party. He would've appreciated it."

Bette frowned, eyeing the short red dress, the hem an indecent several inches above Annie's knees. "I think," she finally said, her voice cold, "your father would have appreciated a little more respect."

"He would've appreciated it or Queen Olivia would?" She rolled her eyes, pouting. "Her Majesty gets what she wants, doesn't she?"

"Annie, please. Not today," she pleaded, taking her hand. "Don't make this any harder than it needs to be."

"Harder? Harder for who?" Her angry question echoed in the marble vestibule and Father Antonio looked over, concerned. "No one ever seems to think about how this might be hard for _me_!"

"What are you talking about?"

The young woman's green eyes filled with tears, sparkling like diamonds. "I am alone now. Totally alone - an orphan!" She shook her head, her voice wavering as it dropped markedly. "My mother abandoned me, my father is dead."

She sighed, wrapping her arms around her niece and holding her tight. "You listen to me," she sternly whispered in her ear, "you are not alone. You have me. _Always_." She cupped her face, looking deep into her eyes. "And, though you hate to acknowledge them, you have a younger brother and sister, who are in just as much pain as you are!"

"Whatever," she sighed weakly, causing her aunt to frown. She pushed her away gently, forcing a smirk to her lips as she gestured to Olivia walking through the entrance of the church, her son and daughter on either side of her. "The gang's all here. Let's get this show on the road."

* * *

The pew creaked as Thomas stood, smoothing his waistcoat and buttoning his suit coat. As he approached the altar, he glanced at the casket, but barely broke his stride. When he reached the lectern, he gripped it tightly and gazed out at the assembled gathering. Faces he knew, some he didn't. In the front pew, he saw his mother smile encouragingly and he nodded back. Gently adjusting the thin microphone, he leaned in and began, "For those of you who may not know me, I'm Del's son, John Thomas."

He glanced down at his prepared eulogy and he sighed, shaking his head as he turned it over. For what he was going to say, he realized he didn't need to read a speech. "What I'm going to say won't take long. A long-winded speech would've driven Dad crazy. Then again, this is about _him_, so his ego would've appreciated something long-winded and flattering." A chuckle rippled through the crowd and he smiled, acknowledging it. "When my mother and aunt asked me to give my father's eulogy, I panicked," he admitted, looking up. "Believe it or not, I haven't had much experience with funerals. Before today, the only one I ever attended was my grandfather's. My mother gave the eulogy then and I don't think there was a dry eye in the church when she finished speaking about her father."

Olivia felt Louise tremble and she reached for her hand, squeezing gently. She looked back at her son, tears blurring her eyes as her son evoked his namesake, the incomparable Thomas Blake. "Without even realizing it," she heard him say, "my mother set the bar. So, when I thought about my father and what I could say about him, I couldn't help but remember Mom and my grandfather. The one thing I learned from him was that honesty was everything."

His brow furrowed, the truth rising in his throat. "So, let me be honest: Dad was not an easy man to live with." He saw Annie look up, her eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. An unruly smirk curled her mouth as he continued, "Those of you who worked with him are probably _shocked_ to hear that."

Collective chuckling filled the church and he paused, waiting until it subsided. "By his own admission, he could be 'meaner than a Texas rattlesnake'," he said, doing an admirable impression of his father's Texas drawl. Behind her tissue, Bette smiled and reached for Louise's hand.

"Dad didn't like my sister and I making a lot of noise in the mornings and he didn't like being disturbed when he was working. He didn't want to hear my sister and I complain every time we had to move. 'Suck it up, boy,' he used to say." Thomas sighed and rocked back on his heels, shoving his hands in his pockets. "So," he concluded, "I could stand here and tell you things like that, but that wouldn't be the truth. Not the _whole_ truth, any way."

Thomas spoke clearly, his words carrying the same indistinct European accent as Louise's, one that spoke of a childhood spent in various countries. "The truth is, while Dad didn't like loud noise in the morning, he thought nothing of riling my sister and I up before bedtime when we were younger, to my mother's eternal chagrin. He would chase us through the house, shouting the Rug Monster was right behind him."

He saw Louise grin and he smiled back at her, recalling the exciting terror of their childhood. "He didn't like being disturbed while he was working, but as the children of a roving oil man, my sister and I got to grow up in places like Egypt, Jordan, Russia and New Zealand. We went on incredible vacations that took us from Bali to Costa Rica, Ireland to South Africa."

Gregory looked over, having a clear view of Olivia from where he sat. He saw her smile, listening to her son regale the mourners with tales of his childhood in exotic locales. Next to him, Caitlin wrapped her arm around his, her breath catching. He patted her knee and glanced at his son. Sean sat quietly, gazing down at his hands. He frowned and reached out, wrapping his arm around son's shoulders. He felt the boy tense but otherwise not move.

"Dad was annoyed if we complained about settling into a new home, but he always bragged how quickly Lulu and I would pick up the language of whatever country we were in. If my parents were having a dinner party, he'd insist that we make an appearance to show off our linguistic prowess." He looked up, smiling down at his mother and her heart swelled with pride. "I don't know if he ever realized the hours you spent, Mom, drilling all those languages into our heads."

Behind her sunglasses, Annie rolled her eyes and burrowed deeper into Ben's embrace. "And, as for that Texas rattlesnake comment," Thomas said, chuckling to himself as he looked over at the casket, "well…that's true. Dad wore that distinction like a badge of honor. He was proud of the reputation he built for himself. For his business, he needed it."

Louise sighed shakily, wiping her eyes as she followed her brother's gaze to the casket. "So, I guess my point is," the young man said, turning back to the mourners before him, "Del Douglas was a lot of things to a lot of people. But to us, his family, it was simple." He turned to the front few, his eyes moving over his mother, sisters and his aunt as he said gently, "He was Olivia's husband of nearly twenty-three years. He was a father to me and my sisters, Annie and Louise. He was Bette's big brother. And that matters more than _anything_ else."

* * *

Cole sat at the back of the church, apart from the rest of the mourners. The boy eulogized his father with the innocence that a sheltered childhood afforded. He chuckled under his breath as he realized how successfully Del covered his tracks. His family had no inkling the kind of monster they were sitting here mourning. That type of deception…Cole regretted he never had the chance to meet the man. They would've worked well together.

"_And that matters more than anything else."_

He looked up, watching as the young man stepped off the altar. He paused by the casket, resting his palm on it for a long moment before he took his seat beside his mother in the front pew. "Little boy," he whispered, watching as the Douglas family stood, "you have no idea just how wrong you are."


	6. Miss Tamara Porter

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Six: "Miss Tamara Porter"

Caitlin sat on the top step, her chin in her hands as she watched Annie and Ben cross through the foyer and disappear down the hall to her father's study. The doorbell rang again a moment later and she leaned forward, watching as Rose ushered Bette into the house. "Quite the motley crew," an amused voice said from behind and she looked up, smiling.

Thomas sighed deeply and dropped down next to her, his long legs spread out before him. He straightened his tie and glanced over as he shrugged, "It seems silly to get so dressed up for this. We're not even leaving your house."

She returned his shrug. "I guess because Detective Torres will be there," she said, offering a tentative explanation.

"Ah, yes…the good detective. Has he arrived yet?" She shook her head and he snapped his fingers, mocking regret. "Pity. I suppose that means we have to wait until he graces us with his presence." She giggled, leaning against the slats of the banister. "I don't know though," he continued, lazily tucking his hands behind his head as he lay back. "Detectives in the novels are always the first to arrive so they can watch the parade of suspects, deducing from their behavior who the killer is."

"Hmm," she marveled, "you're a real Hercule Poirot, aren't you?"

He chuckled, his brown eyes lighting up. "Well, then…that makes you Miss Marple, doesn't it?"

She grimaced. "Isn't she a hundred years old?"

"Well, I'm not exactly a short chubby Belgian, am I?"

She rolled her eyes, though she enjoyed his company. "God, you're just as bad as Sean."

Thomas stood, feigning horrified shock. "I'll have you know that my dignified accent makes me a far superior sparring companion." He winked, buttoning his suit coat as he sauntered off down the stairs. "Cheers, Love. I have to go make sure my half-sister doesn't murder my mother."

She sat up when he stopped short, resting his hand on the banister. He turned to her, a shell of the jovial young man he was a moment ago. Shaking his head, he whispered, "Forget I said that." She nodded, watching as he frowned. "Jokes like that aren't funny. Not anymore."

* * *

"Sorry for being late."

Gregory glanced up, rolling his eyes as Ricardo finally made his appearance. "That's alright," he muttered as the detective declined Rose's offer of a drink and stood against the far wall. "It isn't as if we had anywhere else to be."

Rose disappeared from the study, closing the door behind her as her employer moved to stand before the assembled gathering. Olivia sat on the sofa, a crystal tumbler of vodka in her hand and her arm around Louise. The teenager gazed mournfully at the floor, avoiding all of them. Thomas stood behind his mother, shadowing her as his eyes anxiously jumped from her to Annie.

The red head sat in the club chair across from her step-mother, her arms angrily crossed. Thick black coal lined her eyes, the bony structure of her face giving her an almost ghoulish appearance. Next to her sat Ben, surveying the interior of the study with false interest.

Uniting the two opposing factions was Bette, who wisely sat between them, uncharacteristically quiet. She anxiously twirled her rings, moving from one wedding ring to the next until she ran out and began again. She jumped, her hand flying to her breast when Gregory disturbed the silence and said, "Let's get started."

Ricardo watched as Gregory turned to his desk and picked up a VHS tape. "It was Del's explicit wish that a tape be played. A video will, so to speak."

Bette raised her hand slowly, her eyes wide. "Is - do you mean- is he- will we- Del's on the tape?" she asked, glancing to Annie on her left before turning to Olivia and the children on her right. "Did you know about this?" she asked, looking at her sister-in-law.

Olivia shook her head, innocently watching Bette over the rim of her glass as she sipped her vodka. "You can't be _that_ surprised. You knew your brother's ego."

The TV sprang to life, the drone of static filling the silence as Gregory pushed the tape into the VCR. He turned back, walking through the group to stand behind them with Ricardo. As he did, Olivia glanced up and he gave her a knowing look.

Bette gasped when the video played, her dead brother's face filling the screen. Next to Olivia, Louise whimpered and she frowned, hugging her closer. She felt her son's hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently as Del began to speak.

"_Well, well_," he chuckled, looking straight into the camera. "_What I wouldn't give to see your faces right now_."

Thomas' face turned, disgust morphing into anger as his father's loud guffaw filled the room. He shook his head, listening as Louise sniffled and huddled against their mother. With a quick glance to his left, he saw Annie lean forward, her elbows on her knees as she raised a trembling hand to her lips.

"_I'm guessing there's a mix of shock, anger, frustration_," Del continued, ticking off the emotions on his fingers. "_Did I miss anything, Bette?_" She fumed, folding her arms against her chest as she angrily tapped her foot. "_But how could I, a loving husband, father and brother, deprive my family once last chance to see me in the flesh?_"

Olivia rolled her eyes, her chin resting on her daughter's head. She listened to Del's chuckle and narrowed her eyes, silently cursing him. She kissed her daughter's head and whispered in her ear, "It's almost over."

"_Let's start with my faithful wife, Olivia_," Del announced, chuckling ruefully. "_Faithful…that's a joke_." Olivia ignored the way Annie's eyes fixed on her with laser-beam clarity as she raised the vodka to her lips. He winked at the camera, murmuring, "_Someone should take bets on how long she'll last before she replaces me. She can't stand a cold bed for too long_."

From behind, Gregory watched her drain her vodka, setting the glass down with a hard _clink_. Thomas turned, glaring. "How much more of this do we have to watch?" he hissed angrily as his father's laugh echoed throughout the study.

"_Then there's my children: Annie, Thomas and Louise_." Del sighed, holding a crystal glass. "_At least two of you managed not to be a huge disappointment_."

Annie's heart thundered as she froze, her eyes on the TV screen. She barely felt Ben's hand settle in the middle of her back, rubbing gently. From the video, she heard her father's sigh of disgust and she was a child again, his unhappiness with her evident even then. "_Now, Annie, you control that temper of yours_," he admonished, his finger tracing the rim of his glass. He looked up slyly, whispering, "_There's more Douglas in you than you realize_."

They watched as Del cleared his throat and raised his glass, wearing a Cheshire grin. "_And, Bette. The good Lord knows I let you sponge off me long enough_." He shook his head, chuckling under his breath. "_So, here's to Husband Number Eight. The poor bastard is going to need it_." The glass hit the desk and his expression grew stern. "_Now, let's get to the part you've all been waiting for_."

Gregory clasped his hands before him, watching as the tape began to jump. "_Greg_," Del said, the sound fading in and out, "_I hope you brought in the riot control_." The detective and attorney exchanged a long glance as the dead man began reading from a paper before him, "_I, John Delmar Douglas, in the city of Sunset Beach, in the state of California, and being of sound mind and disposing memory, do hereby make_-"

Bette gasped when the video froze and faded to black, loud static filling the sudden silence. "What was that? What happened?"

Gregory stepped forward, feigning surprise. "The damn tape must've been damaged," he said, turning the TV off. He turned to the group, apologetic as he reached for a thick sheaf of papers on his desk. "Technology, hmm?" He held up the document, explaining, "I have the hard copy of Del's will that I'll be filing with the court. I'll just read from where we left off." He watched Olivia gesture her son close, holding out her empty glass.

Thomas shook his head and stood, turning back to Gregory. "Let's just get this over with," he said as the attorney looked down at the document.

" 'I, John Delmar Douglas, in the city of Sunset Beach, in the state of California, and being of sound mind and disposing memory, do hereby make, publish and declare this to be my last will and testament, hereby revoking all previous wills and codicils by me heretofore made'," Gregory read before moving onto the verbiage he changed only hours before. " 'I do place into an irrevocable trust the sum of three million dollars, to be administered by Gregory Richards, and to be evenly divided between my three children, Anna Claire, John Thomas and Louise Elizabeth.'" He paused briefly, glancing up at the group before he continued reading the original text, " 'A residential property in Sunset Beach, California, shall be given in perpetuity to my sister, Elizabeth Joan Katzenkazrahi. The remainder of my estate, real, personal and mixed, of every kind and nature, shall be left to my wife, Olivia Frances Douglas.'"

Gregory looked up, the memory of Olivia's name dancing on his still lips. "That's it," he said softly, briefly meeting Olivia's grateful eyes.

She stood, taking Thomas' hand as he helped her up. "Well," she sighed, "I'm sure I'm not the only one who needs a little fortification." She picked up her glass and turned for the bar, reaching for the decanter of vodka as she heard Annie jump up.

"A million dollars!" she gasped, her eyes blazing. "That's- that's _all_?"

"Annie, stop." Ben stood, reaching for her arm, cringing at the way all eyes turned to them, accusatory.

"One million dollars is a lot of money, Annie," Olivia noted, turning around. She took a sip, the vodka warm down her throat. "Try not to spend it all in one place."

She scoffed, lurching towards her, causing Louise to shriek. Thomas stopped her, bracing his older sister's shoulders to keep her from his mother. "You bitch! You got everything! And you _killed_ him for it!"

"Stop it!" Thomas shouted, shaking her. Her eyes flew up, her lips curled back in a snarl. "Don't do this, Annie!"

"Get off me," she snapped, pushing him away. She whirled on Ricardo, pointing accusingly at Olivia. "Arrest her, Ricardo! She had the motive! We just heard it!"

"Annie," Gregory said loudly, coming around the desk as she struggled against Ben. "Wives often inherit their husband's estate. It's not that shocking."

"No! She did it! Ask her where she was when my father was shot! Ask her!"

"Ben, get her out of her," Gregory said quietly. The other man nodded, dragging Annie from the room.

Her angry protests eventually faded away and he turned back, frowning as Ricardo stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Mrs. Douglas? Where _were_ you when your husband was shot?"

"Are you mad?" Thomas snapped, putting himself between his mother and the detective. "She doesn't have to answer that!"

Gregory chuckled, moving to stand between both of them and the detective. "The law student is right, Torres. Without her attorney present, Mrs. Douglas is off limits."

Olivia rolled her eyes, pushing past her son and Gregory. "For the last time," she sighed, exasperated, "I don't have anything to hide." She reached for Bette and glanced at the sofa. "Would you mind taking Louise upstairs?" With a glare for the detective's benefit, she explained, "I'd prefer you not do this in front of my children…_either_ of them."

Thomas leaned in, hissing, "I'm not leaving you alone with this detective."

Gregory cleared his throat as Bette ushered the listless teenage girl from the room. "Your mother won't be alone. I'll stay…as legal counsel," he offered, meeting Olivia's eyes.

She nodded, leaning in to cup her son's face. "Go. I'll be fine." She forced a smile as he shot a warning glance at Ricardo. "Check on Lulu."

He nodded, straightening his suit coat as he left. "Loyal kid," Ricardo remarked when the door closed behind Thomas.

But Olivia only smirked, raising her glass to her lips.

* * *

Louise lay still, hearing the bedroom door behind her open. She listened to her brother and aunt whispering quietly, the door closing again a moment later. The bed shifted and she opened her eyes, squinting. She and Thomas were alone in the room, staring at each other. "What happened after I left?"

Thomas exhaled, tossing his suit coat aside as he loosened his tie. "Who knows? I was kicked out too."

She sat up, tucking her legs beneath her. "Why do you think that detective is asking Mom those questions?"

"It's his job," he said simply, turning to his sister.

She sighed, puffing out her cheeks as she brushed her dark hair back over her shoulder. "He's like Annie. He thinks Mom did it."

"Lou," he sighed, leaning back and tucking his hands underneath his head, "Mom didn't shoot Dad." He glanced over as Louise looked away, biting the corner of her lip. "What's wrong?" he asked when she sighed again, shakily.

She looked up slowly, anxiously wringing her hands. "The night Dad was shot…"

He sat up, scooting over the down comforter to grab her hands. She shook her head, tears filling her blue eyes. "What about it?" he whispered, ice dripping into the pit of his stomach.

"Mom…Mom and Dad had a _huge _fight." She sobbed, wiping her eyes as she leaned into her older brother's open arms. "They were screaming at each other. Something about some woman," she cried as he rubbed her back. "Mom called her a whore. And, Dad, he- he-"

"Don't cry, Lulu," he murmured, kissing her head. He hugged her close, sighing deeply. "What did Dad do?"

She trembled in his arms, reliving the fight in her mind. "He called Mom jealous and pathetic. He- he said she should have another drink and calm down." She looked up, the fear in her eyes making her seem much younger than her fourteen years. "I think she threw something at him because the next thing I heard was a loud crash…like glass breaking."

"And then?"

With a shrug, Louise pulled away, hanging her head in her hands. "I don't know," she admitted. "I left a note that I was waiting for them in the lobby. I ran away…like a _baby_." Her face crumpled as she grabbed her brother's hand, squeezing urgently. "I don't know if the phone rang, like Mom said. I don't know if Dad was alive when she left the ro-"

"Louise," he said sharply, grabbing her shoulders. "Listen to me, you _cannot_ repeat what you just said. To anyone, do you understand?" She nodded weakly as he crushed her to him again. "Mom didn't do anything wrong," he whispered. "She didn't."

* * *

"So," Ricardo said, sitting in the club chair vacated by Annie as Olivia returned to the sofa, "let's just get to it. Del's shooting…where were you?"

She glanced up as Gregory stood next to her and waited until he nodded. "With Louise. We were having dinner with Gregory and his daughter."

"Your husband didn't join you?"

"As we were leaving the suite, the phone rang. It was important, so he stayed to take the call."

"So, you expected him to join you as soon as he was finished?" She nodded, taking a sip of vodka. "Weren't you concerned when he didn't?"

"Detective, my husband did business with people all over the world, at all time of the day and night. Do you know how _many_ dinners he missed over the twenty-two years we were married?" She shrugged dismissively, gesturing helplessly. "I was used to it."

He nodded. "Fair enough. And his comment on the tape…'faithful Olivia'?" Her smirk disappeared into another sip of vodka and he waited. "What did your husband mean?" he asked after several moments of silence.

She sighed, clutching the crystal glass in her lap. "What do _you_ think Del meant?" He shifted uncomfortably, but never took his eyes off her. With a rueful chuckle, she took another sip of vodka and leaned back into the sofa. "My husband was paranoid. He liked to believe that I was serially unfaithful to him."

"So, it wasn't true?"

Gregory watched her shrug again and turned her eyes down to her lap. "He believed what he wanted to. I got tired of that particular argument very quickly," she said softly.

He looked up, watching as Ricardo leaned forward urgently. Something was brimming beneath the surface and the detective had a poor poker face. "And, him?" She looked up, confused as Ricardo pressed on, "What about him?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" she asked, turning to Gregory.

He nodded, agreeing. "Get to the point, Torres…if there is one."

"We've received a witness statement from a woman who claims she was…_intimate_ with your husband in the days before his death. A," he glanced down, looking through his notes, "Miss Tamara Porter." He sat back smugly, waiting for Olivia's response.

Gregory was quiet, watching as Olivia sat up, gently swirling the vodka in her glass. The silence stretched between them before she said slowly, her voice low, "I really wouldn't know."

"Mrs. Douglas-" Ricardo protested.

"Detective, I'm sure you can check with the airlines, but up until the morning my husband was shot, my daughter and I were in Jordan. Whatever my husband did before we arrived in Sunset Beach, I really can't comment on."

"You didn't know he was having an affair?" She shook her head and the detective's face turned doubtfully, feigning confusion. "But, you saw her, didn't you?"

Gregory saw her freeze and he took a step closer, glancing between her and Ricardo. "I don't know what you're talking about, Detective," he heard Olivia say. In an instant, he knew she was lying. It was the same dismissive tone she took with him when he questioned her at the hospital.

"Miss Porter came down to the station to give a statement. She says that she and Del were alone in his hotel room in the early morning hours of January 6th when the phone rang. It was the hotel's front desk. They were confirming the arrival of you and your daughter. Apparently," he said, turning to Gregory and including him in the conversation, "it's their policy not to check anyone into an existing guest's room without consent."

He turned back to Olivia, feeling triumphant in the face of her blank stare. She paled, her lips quivering as she took another, deeper sip of the vodka. "Ring a bell, Mrs. Douglas?"

"Yes. They called up to speak with Del."

He leaned in, murmuring, "Miss Porter said she panicked. She got dressed quickly and would've been out of your husband's suite sooner, but she couldn't find one of her shoes."

"Detective," Gregory interrupted, but Ricardo pressed on.

"Miss Porter had just left the suite when you and your daughter turned the corner. You passed each other in the hall and," he said, excited as he turned back to his notes, "Miss Porter said, 'The way she looked at me, I knew that she knew about me and her husband'." He closed his notepad and looked up, pleased.

"That's it?" Gregory asked, his tone dismissive. "_That's_ your smoking gun?"

He stood, gathering himself up to his full six feet, standing toe-to-toe with Gregory. "Your client is lying about what she knows and when she knew it. Her husband was cheating on her, practically under her nose. And, now he's dead and she inherited everything."

Gregory smirked. "All you've got is one woman's claim that Mrs. Douglas knew what was going on." He turned, looking down. "Olivia, how long was the flight from Jordan?"

"We changed planes in Frankfurt and Chicago, but in all, almost twenty-four hours."

"There," he said, satisfied as he looked back at the detective. "I don't know about this Miss Porter, but after twenty-four hours of traveling, I don't know what kind of look _I_ would give someone I passed in the hall. You've got nothing and now," he said, extending his hand to Olivia as she stood, "I'm going to advise my client not to answer any more of your questions."

* * *

Cole looked up, rubbing his eyes. The reports his private investigator compiled were starting to blur together. "Enough with reading about the Douglas family," he murmured. "Time to _see_ them."

He reached for a thick lumpy folder, undoing the twine that held it together. He turned it over, a pile of glossy 5x7s falling out. He spread the photos out on the bedspread, the shots clandestinely taken by his investigator as the family arrived and left Del's funeral. "Not bad," he said appreciatively, admiring a photo of Del's widow. Even in her grief, she was attractive, her eyes hinting at an inner vibrancy.

He chuckled, the photo capturing the older daughter as she sneered, glaring at someone just beyond the camera's range. Her hands were defiant on her hips, blazing anger radiating through the picture.

The other daughter was devastated, her long dark hair partially clipped back from her face, to reveal an anguish that she was struggling to contain. He lingered on that photo for a moment, her eyes watery as she turned, looking over her shoulder. Slowly, he turned the print of Louise over, not able to stand the girl's exposed vein of sorrow.

The son was stoic, composed as the shot of him captured him escorting his mother from the church. Cole shrugged, glancing at it before he reached back for one of the earlier photos. For what he needed, Del's son wouldn't help him. "But you," he said, looking down at the photo of the woman, "you are _just_ who I need."

He jumped up from the bed, clutching the picture as he reached for the phone. He punched in a well-used number, listening as the line rang. With an evil grin, he traced the face in the photo with the tip of his finger. "Meet me at the pier at sunset," he said into the handset. "I have a job for you and, believe me, you are going to _love_ the target."


	7. All the King's Horses

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Seven: "All the King's Horses"

Sean trotted down the stairs, a bulging book bag on his back. Rose smiled up at him as she passed him, carrying an overflowing laundry basket. "Geez, you think you have enough laundry to do?"

She smiled, shaking her head. "I don't mind. It's nice having a busy house again."

"Yeah. I guess," he murmured, passing through the foyer on the way to the dining room. A crowded house was not his idea of a good time, let alone virtual strangers. Louise looked up when he entered, her reading glasses slipping down her nose. "Oh, hey…"

She whispered a reply, watching as he loaded his plate with scrambled eggs, bacon and pancakes. With a grimace, she turned away, looking down at her barely touched plate of toast and fruit. She pushed the food away and turned back to her notebook.

With a sigh, he plopped into the seat across from her and dug into his food. Quietly, he glanced over at Louise, her pencil scratching across the college-ruled paper. "What are you working on?" he asked, swallowing a mouthful of eggs.

"Math," she said softly.

"Oh." The silence ticked by before he finally asked, "Do you like it?"

"Not really, but they said I was too far ahead for freshman math."

He nodded, impressed as he drizzled thick maple syrup over the pancakes. "How do you like St. Agnes'?"

She brushed her hair from her shoulder as she looked up. "It's alright," she sighed, taking off her glasses and setting them on the notebook. "Schools are the same, no matter where you are."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." She leaned her head in her hand, sighing as she traced the rim of her tea cup. "How many have you gone to?"

"St. Agnes' is number eighteen," she sighed, watching him with wide blue eyes. "What about you?"

He shook his head, swallowing his pancake. "Not that many, but enough."

"_More_ than enough," Gregory muttered, walking into the room as he glanced through the Sentinel. Seeing more salacious headlines about Del's murder, he abruptly folded the paper, shielding it from Louise's sweeping gaze. He sat at the head of the table, smiling a greeting at the young girl before he turned to his son. "Let's make sure Pacific Coast Academy is your _last_ high school."

"Yeah," Sean muttered, suddenly losing his appetite. "I met with the guidance counselor," he explained as Louise quietly gathered her belongings and slipped away. "He says that all my credits from Holston transferred over and as long as I keep my grades up this term, I'll graduate in June."

"Good." He leaned back, sighing as he rubbed his eyes. "And after? What about college?"

"Finishing my application for Pepperdine this weekend. I already turned in the ones for UCLA, USC, Oxy, LMU and-"

"And?"

"Stanford."

Gregory was quiet, watching his son look up nervously. He sat forward, pressing his palms together as he sighed thoughtfully. "All California schools," he said after a long moment. Sean shrugged, watching his father. "Your mother was sure you were going to go East for college."

"Yeah. Well, I guess Mom was wrong." He stood abruptly, reaching for his book bag. "Anyway, I gotta go."

"Sean," he called out to no avail. His son turned the corner, disappearing from the room. With a deep sigh, he shoved the place setting away as he frowned. Nothing was every easy with him. It was Alex who had the gift of reaching their son, getting him to open up. She had been his confidant. And, for the last three years, Sean had wallowed without her.

"Were you calling for Sean?" Olivia asked, breezing into the dining room with a glass of orange juice in her hand. He nodded blandly as he exhaled. "Oh, he just left with Louise. Tim is dropping them off at school before he comes back for you."

"That's fine," he murmured as she sat next to him.

"Something wrong?" she asked, taking a deep sip of the juice. She winced slightly but straightened abruptly when he looked over. His eyes were dark, clouded with regret and sadness.

"Sean," he sighed. "I can't get through to him. He and I aren't close the way he and Alex were. He told her everything." He closed his eyes, an image of his late wife flashing through his mind. Her golden hair, her blue eyes, her sunny smile. "Since she died," he continued quietly, "Sean's gone through a series of schools. He hasn't finished a full year in any of them. It's like he's lost his bearing in the world without her here to guide him." He looked up, smiling sadly. "How is it our children managed to be cursed with such devastation?"

"We never get more than we can handle," she said quietly after a long moment. "I'm sure you've been more of a comfort to Sean than you realize."

"I doubt that." His eyes fell, opening a vein as he admitted, "I see Sean looking at me sometimes and I see the same way I used to look at my own father…with hatred and disgust."

She frowned, reaching out tentatively to cover his hand with hers. "Sean doesn't hate you. I just-" She shook her head, reaching for her orange juice. "Never mind."

"Go on," he said.

Her eyes danced up to his and she leaned in. "I just think," she continued softly, "that he's very afraid of disappointing you. He's trying very hard to be the son he thinks you want." He sat quietly, mulling that over. "Just…tell him."

"Tell him what?"

"What he needs to hear."

He nodded and she sat back, clutching her glass with both hands as she drank from it. She smiled bashfully and he sat back, watching her thoughtfully. Fine lines were etched around her eyes, smudges beneath her eyes that were slowly becoming a part of her complexion. A melting ice cube clinked against her glass, the orange juice suspiciously thin. "How are you doing, Olivia? Really?"

She shrugged, draining her glass dry as she set it aside. "Fine."

"Fine," he repeated. "I don't know that I was 'fine' after Alex died. I think it was almost a year before I felt that way."

"Del and I were not you and Alex," she said simply.

"No, I suppose not." He watched her, noticing the flush in her neck and her glassy eyes. "Detective Torres," he began after several moments of uncomfortable silence, "has requested to interview you again." She glanced up and he smiled, gently. "As your attorney, I declined. You're not officially a suspect, so unless you become one, you're the wife of a murder victim and there's nothing more he can learn by interviewing a grieving widow."

Her eyes widened as she chuckled, hiding her mouth behind her hand. "Grieving widow," she repeated, closing her eyes. She leaned her face into her palms, sighing deeply as her laugh died away. "Del would've found that amusing."

"Would he?"

She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. "You heard him on that video. He didn't expect me to grieve at all."

"Are you?" She looked over and he clarified, "Grieving?"

Her face froze, a distant look clouding her eyes. "Are you asking as my lawyer?"

"As your friend," he said quietly.

With a deep exhale, she sat forward, the empty glass dancing in her grasp. "As my children's father, I grieve him. They're in pain and I would give anything to ease it." He nodded, watching quietly. "But Del and I…our marriage was hardly perfect."

"Nothing ever is."

"I suppose that's true." She sighed, pushing the glass away to rub her eyes. "We never should've married," she whispered. The confession quaked between them and she lowered her hands, gazing down at her lap.

"You knew about Tamara Porter, didn't you?" he asked softly and she looked up. "Now, I'm your lawyer."

An amused smirk curled her mouth and she nodded. "I didn't know _her_, but I knew there was someone. There always was," she added with a sigh, rubbing her arms as she shivered. "Discretion was a foreign concept to him." She didn't even bother forcing a smile as she looked up at him. "I never cared what he did, so long as Thomas and Louise never knew. It was bad enough we made each other miserable for over twenty years, but I refused to allow them to suffer because of it. But now," she sighed, shaking her head slightly, "Del's dead and I can't help but-"

"But what?" Gregory asked after several moments of silence.

"Be relieved." She looked up slowly, meeting his eyes. Expecting to find condemnation, the pity she found was somehow worse. Twenty-three years ago, she had sold her soul for the promise of him. Now, he was finally looking at her, but it was only to feel sorry for her. She stood abruptly, pulling the belt of her robe tightly. "But, I made my choices and this is where they've led me."

He moved to reply when Thomas walked in, rubbing his face awake. "Morning...am I interrupting?"

Gregory watched the too-bright smile come to Olivia's face as she turned to her son, shaking her head. "Of course not, Darling." She kissed his cheek, rubbing his arm as he poured himself a steaming mug of coffee. "You're up early."

He nodded, taking a generous sip before biting into one of the frosted doughnuts. "Gregory gave me a guest pass to his country club, so I thought I'd play some golf later this morning."

She glanced over her shoulder, surprised eyes finding Gregory. He shrugged innocently and turned back to his paper. "Well, that's wonderful," she sighed, turning back to her son. "After everything, you should get some relaxation in before you go back to Australia."

Thomas nodded and swallowed his mouthful of doughnut. "Speaking of that," he began, watching as his mother's face turned, concerned. He took her arm and looked past her to Gregory, "Excuse us."

Olivia let her son lead her out of the dining room and down the hall to the foyer. "Thomas, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He flashed her a grin and turned to her, leaning against the newel post of the staircase. "I decided that I'm going to stay in Sunset Beach, instead of going back to Australia. I already called Ned and let him know. He's sending me the things I left behind."

"But, Thomas, you were so excited about your itinerary and all the things you were going to do."

"Yes, I was," he allowed as he glanced over, serious. "But none of that matters anymore. My father was murdered and I realized that I don't want to be away from my family. I'll be gone enough when I start at Oxford in October." She moved to argue and he held his hand up, fixing her with his most endearing smile. "It's already arranged."

"What is?"

"A job. Well, an internship, really. But, I was talking with Gregory last night, making sure he didn't mind one more person underfoot for the foreseeable future. Anyway, he offered me a position with his law firm."

"Thomas," she gasped, beaming with pride.

"Now, now," he warned, holding up his hand. "Don't get too excited. It isn't as if I'll be arguing a case or anything. No, I'll probably have a dozen paper cuts by the end of the first day because all I'll be doing is filing depositions."

"No, Darling. This is wonderful." She squeezed his hand as he glanced up, pleased. "But, is this is what you want? Honestly?"

He nodded. "Yes, definitely. It was so strange in Australia, not having you and Lou to talk to every day." He glanced over, smiling widely. "This is how it was meant to be: the three of us together again. That may have been the only good thing to come from Dad dying."

Olivia stood quietly as she reached out to cup her son's face. "He did love you…very much."

He sighed, covering her hand with his. "I know that. But, even when Dad was with us, he wasn't _there_. But, you were. Every night, in every country we lived in. No matter what, I knew Lulu and I had you."

She sat up, wrapping her arms around her son. "You're such a sweet boy," she sighed, pressing her cheek against his. "Your sister will be as thrilled as I am to hear you are staying."

* * *

Gregory trudged down the hallway, exhausted after a long day spent in court. The hallway seemed to grow longer with each step and he sighed, the door to his study in sight. As he turned the corner, he heard the sound of a flowering violin, the music suddenly filling the hallway with its presence.

Curious, he set his heavy briefcase quietly on the floor and ambled over to the library. He stood in the doorway, putting his hand on Caitlin's shoulder. She glanced back and smiled, holding her index finger to her lips. He nodded, wrapping his arm around her as they stood quietly, listening to Louise play.

The young girl was standing by the window, her eyes closed as she drew the bow, evoking the mournful piece. Her fingers moved, straining and pressing the strings to change the pitch. Caitlin sucked in her breath, the sad music stirring something deep within her, something she hadn't felt so raw in years. It was grief, she realized as she blinked away stinging tears.

Her father squeezed her arm, gesturing with his head. He led her out and she closed the door softly, turning to him as she wiped her eyes. "Did you hear Louise? She's incredible!"

He nodded, the music reverberating through the solid door. "Olivia said she had a natural talent."

She shook her head. "That's more than a talent. That's a God-given gift." She sighed, leaning against the door. "Isn't it nice?" she asked, taking his hand. "Having the house full of life again?"

He nodded, a half-smile on his face. "Have you seen your brother?"

Caitlin shook her head, watching as the smile fell from her father's face. "I don't think he's back from school yet." He sighed, lowering his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's been working really hard, Daddy."

"I know, Princess. I know." He looked up and she froze, the haunted look in his eyes scaring her. "Do you think Sean's happy?"

She cocked her head as the violin swelled, confused. "Happy he's home?"

"Happy at all?" he sighed, leaning against the doorjamb.

"I think…sometimes." With a sad smile, she reached out and took his hand. "Since Mom di-" she broke off abruptly, swallowing hard as tears came to her eyes. "Since Mom, he just hasn't been the same. But, he's home for good now. As long as he knows he has our love and support, he'll be fine."

But Gregory only kissed her forehead in reply, frowning as he turned for his study.

* * *

Annie blinked, slumping over the bar. The pounding music reverberated in her chest, blinding lights swirling through the smoky night club. Her ears thumped, consumed with the bass as gripped her empty glass. "Hey!" she called, waving the glass in the air. "Hey, you!"

Mark glanced up, his eyebrow arched skeptically. He ambled over and leaned on the bar, sighing deeply. "Yes, Annie?"

She shoved the empty glass at him and muttered, "Another."

He looked up, waiting until he caught Ben's eye. He looked down pointedly and wasn't surprised when the owner shook his head. "Sorry, Annie. No can do."

"What?" She jumped up, her eyes blazing as she spun around. She tripped into Ben's outstretched arms, lingering there for barely a moment before she shoved him away. "I want another drink!" she hissed.

He shook his head, reaching for her. "I think you've had enough, Annie."

"I don't want to know what you _think_. I want you to get your bartender to make me another drink!"

Ben shook his head, waving Mark away. The younger man nodded and moved on as his boss took Annie's arm and gently pulled her from the bar. "You're upset. Let me have someone drive you home."

"No thanks," she snapped as she shook off his touch. "God, you're not my father."

He sighed and folded his arms against his chest, watching Annie teeter on her four-inch heels. "You're right. I'm just your friend."

"Please, you're _not_ my friend." She poked him in the shoulder, swaying dangerously before she gripped the back of a nearby chair. "You just want to tell me where to go and what to do."

"Annie-"

"Leave me alone!" she cried, jabbing her finger once more in his chest before she stalked off. The smoky air curled around her and she blinked, her eyes burning as she pushed through the crowd. She stumbled up the stairs and out through the double doors, the cool night air greeting her like an old friend.

She began rummaging through her purse, walking in a lazy line across the parking lot. Muttering a curse under her breath, her car keys nowhere to be found, she didn't hear the footsteps behind her. The streetlight flickered, schizophrenic flashes of light as her fingers skimmed the key ring. "Finally," she mumbled, bumping into the hood of her sports car.

A hand clamped over her mouth and nose, the sour smell of sweat filling her nostrils. Her eyes widened as she screamed, the hand muffling the noise to barely a whisper. The other hand went around her waist, wrenching her purse from her hand. "Shut up," an ugly voice hissed in her ear.

She slipped into paralysis, her mind spinning with alcohol as her back was shoved against the car. A leg pressed between her knees, parting them forcibly. The sickening feeling of revulsion turned in her stomach and a shudder went through her body. Through the haze of alcohol and the sporadic light, the gleam of the switchblade was not to be missed. "Take my wallet," she cried as the point of the blade toyed with the flimsy material of her dress. "The car too."

His eyes gleamed black, hideous in the night as he leaned into her neck and breathed deep. Tears stung her eyes as she turned her face away, his unshaven face scratching against her throat. "I will," he growled, his hand cupping her hip before trailing up to her breast. "But first-"

"_Hey! Get off her!"_

Annie's eyes flew open as the mugger was jerked way, the sickly crunch of knuckles and jaw meeting. She watched, trembling in horror as she watched a pair of men rolling on the pavement, angry grunts alternating with heavy handed punches. A foot slammed into her shin and she jumped away, the heel of her left shoe snapping. With a final blow, the mugger jumped up, his footsteps echoing into the night as he ran away.

She pressed herself into the car as the other man stood, spitting a clot of blood onto the ground. He tentatively touched the corner of his mouth, rubbing his fingertips together as he felt sticky warmth. "Are you alright?" he asked, limping over to her. She nodded, her arms wrapped around herself. "Are you sure?"

With a shuddering sigh, she croaked, "Yes."

"I saw him grab you," he explained, flexing his fist as he neared her. "Are you sure you're not hurt?"

"I'm fine," she replied, her voice cracking. "Th- Thank you."

"You're welcome, but anyone would've done the same." The man grinned, flashing impossible to miss dimples as he held out his hand. "I'm Cole, by the way. Cole St. John."

* * *

Gregory knocked on his son's door, waiting until he heard him say, "Come in." He opened the door, stepping into the dimly lit room.

Sean sat up, tossing his book aside. "Hey," he said unsurely.

"Busy day, hmm?" he asked, his eyes lingering on a photo of Alex and Sean on the night table.

He shrugged, swinging his legs off the bed. "Sort of."

"We missed you at dinner."

Sean nodded, watching as his father walked the perimeter of the room, examining posters and books like they were priceless artifacts in a museum. "I was at the library. Did you need something?" he asked, getting to the point as he watched his father place a thick folder onto his desk. "What's that?"

"In a minute," Gregory said. He looked down, feeling his son's wary gaze. "Tell me about why you applied to the colleges you did."

"Seriously?" He sighed, shaking his head. "Does it even matter?"

"Why wouldn't it? You're my son," he said, ignoring the way Sean scoffed, "and I want to know."

He sat back, leaning against the wall. "Well, it _doesn't_ matter," he said dismissively. "One school's as good as the next."

Gregory sighed, taking the folder in his hands. "Don't think I don't care, Sean, because I do. Very much." He felt his son look up and he continued, honesty rising in his soul. "I want you to set your own path. Be your own man and live your life the way you want to."

The teenager turned away, setting his jaw as he gazed at the photo of him and his mother. He remembered posing for the photo. It was his first day of summer camp and her arms were wrapped tightly around him, keeping him close as she beamed up at the camera. He closed his eyes, remembering the smell of her perfume and the way she laughed as his father seemed intimidated by the dials and buttons on her camera.

He watched his son and quietly said, "Don't think you're pleasing me by choosing schools you think I want. That's the last thing I want that for you…and your mother wouldn't want it either." Sean sucked in his breath and looked away, balling his hands into tight fists. "Whatever you want, whatever you _choose_, is what will make us happy." He placed the folder carefully on the bed next to his son. "Look through them. In the morning, we'll talk about what you decided."

Sean waited until he heard the door close behind his father before he sighed, wiping his eyes quickly. He reached for the folder and opened it, glossy admission packets spilling out on his lap. Colby…Bates…Middlebury…Tufts…Williams…Amherst. His lips moved silently, forming the names of the East Coast colleges that he privately admired and secretly considered attending. It wasn't hard to picture himself walking through a tree-lined quad, autumn leaves swirling around him.

He looked up at the closed door, imagining his father walking down the hall to his room. With a tentative smile, he turned back to the admissions paperwork and grabbed his pen.

* * *

Cole rolled down the window of his car and sighed, shaking his head sadly. "You're a mess," he said. "Someone hit you, Bobby?"

The other man grimaced as he tentatively fingered the bandage on his nose. "I didn't realize you were going to break my nose," he growled, leaning against the car. "You were just supposed to rough me up to impress that chick."

"The element of surprise is invaluable. Besides, I tossed in a small bonus…for your nose," he explained as he held out a thick envelope. He watched Bobby grope the envelope and tuck it into the waistband of his jeans, smoothing his faded black t-shirt down. "Anyway, she bought it. That's all that matters."

Bobby chuckled, running his hand over his greasy hair. "She worth all that trouble?"

He put the car into Drive and pulled away slowly. "Definitely," he muttered, closing the window.


	8. Satya

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Eight: "Satya"

"Can I take the boat out, Dad?"

Gregory looked up, seeing Sean and Thomas at the other end of the table. The boys were huddled over the local section of the newspaper, pouring over the boating forecast. "I don't see why not," he replied, turning around to glance out the floor-to-ceiling windows. "It's a clear day."

"I love boats," Louise sighed, a rare smile lighting up her face. Her brother looked up and grinned, happy to see some of his sister's former self returning. "They're so peaceful."

"It'll be great," Sean promised her as he folded up the paper and set it aside. He turned to his father, an idea forming. "Hey, Dad…maybe the four of us can sail to Catalina? Make a night of it."

Louise exchanged an excited glance with her brother and turned to her mother. "Is it ok, Mom? Can we? Please say yes!"

They watched Olivia turn, as if wrenched from a daydream. Her eyes were cloudy and she blinked, forcing a smile to her face. "Hmm?"

Gregory cleared his throat and explained, "The children are escaping to Catalina. They'll be back tomorrow."

"Is that safe?" she asked, not seeing the way Louise's face fell.

He nodded. "They'll be fine on the boat. Caitlin and Sean have made the trip before and they can handle the _Satya_."

"Are we taking the boat out?" Caitlin asked as she breezed into the dining room, her ponytail bouncing.

"Catalina," Sean explained as she slipped into the empty seat between him and their father. "Overnight with Thomas and Louise."

"Excellent." She grinned, reaching for the pitcher of orange juice. "We haven't been out on the water in awhile."

"What's satya?" Thomas asked.

"It's a Sanskrit word." Sean felt his father's eyes on him and he sighed, surprisingly feeling strength in the gaze. "Mom loved India. She said it was her favorite place to photograph. Anyway, satya means truth."

"And truth is love," Gregory said softly, hearing Alex's voice in his head.

Silence descended on the table like a blanket, each person lost in their own thoughts. Warm sunshine flooded the room, glowing on the crystal pitcher and catching on the silver flatware. Olivia looked up quietly, watching a multitude of emotions run across Gregory's face before he cleared his throat, forcing them below the surface. She gave him a small smile, her eyes softening as Caitlin started, reaching into the pocket of her bathrobe. "I almost forgot," she exclaimed, holding out a photo to Olivia. "This is for you."

She frowned, taking the corner of the old photo and turning it over. Her stomach flipped and she inhaled sharply, drawn to the image. "Where did you find this?" she murmured as Thomas and Louise peered over her shoulder.

"It was in one of Mom's old albums," Caitlin said, concerned with the way Olivia's face quickly lost its color. "I thought you might want it."

The photo burned into Olivia's memory and a chill went through her as she looked at it. Del's arm was around her, a partially smoked cigar distorting his Cheshire grin. His coat was draped over her shoulders and she was leaning against him, smiling slightly. "I can't believe Alex kept it all these years," she finally said, unable to keep the tremor from her voice as she dropped it to the table.

"Oh, we've got boxes full of Mom's old albums," Sean said, watching as Louise reached for the photo. "There's tons of photos from the old days."

Gregory watched Olivia nod shakily, her hand trembling as she brushed her hair back. "You must remember Alex always having her camera with her. Every party, every bonfire on the beach."

She forced a smile and reached for her orange juice, taking a deep sip. "Yes," she sighed, meeting Gregory's eyes, "in the old days."

As he nodded, the doorbell rang and Caitlin stood. "I'll get it."

Thomas dropped into the chair next to his mother, leaning in to whisper, "You alright?"

She turned in surprise, her mouth forming into a perfectly rounded O as he reached for her glass. "Fine," she insisted, moving the glass from his reach. She patted his cheek gently and turned back around. "Perfectly fine."

Louise looked up, clutching the photo of her parents to her heart. "Can I keep this, Mom?"

Olivia nodded, happy to never have to see the picture again. "Of course," she said. From the foyer, Caitlin called for her father and Gregory stood, leaving the dining room.

The girl nodded gratefully, taking another peak down at parents. "Do you remember when it was taken?" she asked softly, leaning her head on her mother's shoulder. She held up the picture for her mother to see, not feeling the way she froze.

"Hmm, maybe a wedding? Your father's wearing a tuxedo. Probably one of Aunt Bette's."

Louise gazed at the image for a long moment, sighing. "Daddy looks so handsome." She sat up, propping the picture up against her tea cup. "You don't have a lot of photos from when you and Daddy were younger. Just the pictures from when Tom and I were babies. How come?"

Olivia gulped her orange juice, striving for calm even as she shrugged dismissively. "Oh, Lulu, you know what it's like to move between countries. A box or two always goes missing."

The young girl nodded, contemplating her mother's explanation as Caitlin walked back into the dining room, followed by Gregory and three armed security guards. "Is everything alright?" she heard her mother ask.

Gregory nodded, gesturing to the guard in the middle who held an armored case. "Del's will has been released from probate." A sinking feeling twisted in Olivia's stomach, watching as the guard put the case on the table and unlocked the lid. "The insurance company insisted the jewels be accompanied by armed guards, due to the-"

He broke off abruptly, watching as Olivia jumped up, breathing quickly. "Get them out of here," she gasped, covering her mouth.

Even as she said it, the security guard lifted one of the velvet covered boxes and opened it, the hinges creaking. The sunlight glowed on the diamond necklace as he held the box out to Olivia. Gregory watched as she turned away, refusing to acknowledge them. Next to him, he heard Caitlin sigh appreciatively and saw her lean in, lost in the glittering wonder.

"Oh, Mom, they're amazing!" Louise said, leaning in also, reaching out to touch them.

She reached out, smacking her daughter's hand away as she grabbed her shoulders and physically pulled her back. "Don't touch them," she hissed, shoving her daughter behind her.

"Mom? What's wrong?"

Gregory matched Thomas' concern, watching as she still refused to look at the jewels. Panic rose in her eyes as she meet his gaze, breathing deeply as she repeated, "Get rid of them, Gregory. _Now_."

* * *

"So, what's good here?"

Annie shrugged, forcing her eyes to the menu. "Anything…except the waffles."

"But, shouldn't waffles be their specialty?"

She shook her head knowingly, a chuckle dying beneath her breath. "Trust me."

"I do." Cole waited until she looked up slowly to smile as he reached out for her hand. Giving it a gentle squeeze, a faint blush colored her cheeks and he whispered, "These last few days have been really great."

She nodded, his finger skimming the underside of her wrist. "They have," she said softly, basking in the sunlight of his gaze.

"You know, I think of what would've happened to you in the parking lot if I wasn't there," he began, his face turning as he shook his head forcefully, as if chasing the thought away. "I'm so glad I was there when I was."

"Me too." With a sigh, she closed her menu and leaned in, letting him take her other hand. "These last few weeks have been a nightmare and then what happened at _The Deep_…" She looked up, believing it was possible to lose herself in someone's eyes, just like all the songs claimed. "You've been like a dream."

He shook his head, bringing her hand to his mouth as he whispered, "_You're_ the dream come true." The blush deepened as he kissed her hand, his mouth moving over her knuckles. "You know," he chuckled, meeting her eyes, "I thought the English guy at the nightclub was your boyfriend."

"Ben?" she asked, a silly grin on her face before she shook her head. "No, definitely not."

"He seemed pretty concerned after what happened in the parking lot."

A thought whispered in the back of her mind and she leaned in, asking, "Were you _jealous_?"

Now he was the one to blush as he hung his head. "A little," he admitted as her foot curled around his ankle.

"Well, you don't need to be. Ben's a good friend who's just been worried about me lately."

"Since your father was murdered?" he asked, feigning nonchalance. He felt her tremble and he took both her hands, pressing them between his. "I'm sorry. That was thoughtless of me."

"No, it's ok." She shrugged, pulling her hands back to wrap her arms around herself. "Daddy and I…weren't close."

"But, he was your father." He stood, coming around to sit on her side of the booth next to her. Gently, he put his arm around her and hugged her close. "It doesn't matter if you were close or not…you miss him."

After a moment, she nodded, leaning into his chest. "I do," she sighed, a sob rising in her throat. "No one else understands that."

He ran his hand over her head, combing through the dark red tresses. "Fathers and their first born child…there's a bond there that no one else can ever understand."

She breathed deep, the scent of his cologne filling her lungs. "He abandoned me," she said, leaning up to look deep into his eyes. Cole stared back at her, his chocolate brown eyes overflowing with concern. "Traded me in for a new family."

"My father too," he lied, sighing internally as he made his voice quiver. Her hand crept up his chest, covering his heart. "His new wife said I was a reminder of my mother and she didn't want me around." She nodded, understanding as he continued, "I'm an outcast in my own family."

"Screw her," Annie muttered, cupping his face as she leaned in. Their lips met quietly as he hugged her closer, her fingertips dancing over his jawbone. "Screw her _and_ Olivia."

He kissed her forehead, letting her tuck her head into his neck. He cast a thankful look at the heavens, pleased to finally have their conversation where he wanted it. "Olivia?" he murmured, rubbing her back.

"My bitch of a stepmother. She made sure that Daddy loved their children more than he loved me."

"That's awful," he sighed, kissing the top of her head. "You deserved better than that."

"And now, my father's dead. She inherited everything." She sat up, her eyes blazing. "Do you think that's a coincidence?"

"I don't believe in coincidence."

"She ruined my life. She took everything from me."

"Tell me about her," he said, nudging her chin up. "It'll do you good to get it off your chest." She nodded, smiling gratefully. "Tell me _all_ about Olivia."

* * *

Gregory sighed, loosening his tie as he walked down the hall to his bedroom. It had been a long day, sorting through Del's estate. The money, the stocks, the trust funds…the jewels. His eyes narrowed, thinking of Olivia's reaction when the jewels were delivered. The way she froze…the way she paled…the way she refused to touch them.

He stopped in the middle of the hall, wondering. After a moment, he turned, staring at the closed door of the guest room. With his hands deep in his pockets, he ambled over to the door, knocking lightly. Something behind the door tumbled and several moments went by before it finally opened. Olivia winced at the light spilling in from the hall, shielding her eyes. "Oh…hello."

"You seem surprised. Were you expecting someone else?" he joked, leaning against the door jamb.

She shook her head, an amused smile appearing briefly before it fell away. "Of course not. That's why I was surprised when I heard the knock."

His eyes moved over her, the deep blue of her silk robe contrasting sharply with the glass of Chardonnay she held to her chest. "I just wanted to talk with you about the rest of Del's estate."

She drew in her breath, listening as he explained the disbursement of the money, various stocks and the real estate. With a jolt of fear, she thought of the diamonds at breakfast that morning and she sighed, raising the glass to her lips. "And, when you have some free time, I'd like to talk with you about the Liberty shares," she heard him conclude and she turned, walking back into the bedroom.

"Why?"

He took two steps into the room and stopped, glancing around. Dim light from the bedside lamp struggled with illuminating the room and he blinked as his eyes adjusted to the shadows. "You're a full partner now. I want to bring you up to speed." She nodded blandly, glancing at him with sad eyes over her shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked as she raised the glass of wine to her lips.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seemed…upset earlier."

"Did I?" she asked, turning away. She sat on the foot of the bed, sipping the wine. He stood formally, watching her and she giggled, gesturing him over. "I won't bite," she chuckled, causing him to step towards her. "Tomorrow. We'll talk about Liberty tomorrow. Have you heard from the children?"

"I spoke to Caitlin before I left the office. They're all having a great time and they're safely docked off Catalina for the night." The patio doors were open, a cool breeze rushing in and stirring the sheer curtains. An empty bottle of wine sat on the bureau, next to a second half-filled one.

"I hope you don't mind," she said as he reached for the bottle, examining the label.

"Not at all. That's what the wine cellar is for." He turned, smiling. "1974 was a good year."

She stood, stumbling slightly as she crossed the room. "A _milestone_ year," she pointed out.

He turned to her, her glassy eyes catching in the pale light. "Was it?" he asked softly as she leaned against the bureau, refilling her glass.

She nodded, despair clouding her sigh. "1974 was the year of Del and I."

"It was the same year you both left Sunset Beach."

She chuckled into the glass, sipping generously. "Left…ran…same difference."

He watched her turn away, letting her comment pass. Her feet padded across the floor as she moved to the patio doors, her nightgown dancing on the breeze. "Alex and I started dating in 1974," he added quietly with downcast eyes, not seeing the way she flinched.

"Yes…I know," she sighed, the wine rich as she swallowed it. The unearthed photo at breakfast mixed with memories from that year, dancing in her mind. The way she longed for Gregory, lusting after him from afar. Del whispering in her ear that he could make Gregory hers. He would help her if she would help him. His voice rang in her ears still, taunting her with his unholy plan and she spun around, stumbling. "Stop it," she murmured, not noticing the way Gregory moved to catch her. She looked up, her eyes wild as she slumped against him, whispering, "Make him stop."

"Who?" he asked, taking the glass from her and setting it on the night table.

She blinked, her vision blurring together. "Del," she gasped, lowering her head to his chest. "I can hear him. He won't…_stop_."

He held her close, leading her over to the bed. "You need to sleep," he suggested, laying her down. Her dark hair pooled on the pillow, a sharp contrast to the creamy white sheets. She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as the room spun. "If you sleep," he insisted, his voice soothing and gentle, "he'll stop talking. Del will go away."

She moaned, turning onto her side. "No, he won't. He's never stopped. He…"

"Olivia, he's dead."

Her eyes flew open and she reached for his hand, squeezing urgently. "He deserved to die," she said, her words slurring.

Gregory seized the moment, cupping her chin gently as he made her look at him. "Did you kill him?"

Her eyes fell and she shook her head sadly, trembling. "No…but I wish I had," she cried, a tear snaking down the curve of her nose. She brushed it away angrily, whispering, "What he did…"

"What did he do?" he asked, holding her face. "Tell me, Olivia. I can help."

"You can't," she moaned, pushing his hands away as a baby's mournful cry filled the silence. She scrambled up, knocking into the night table as she stood and covered her ears. The lamp shade was knocked askew, angling the beam of weak light away and plunging them further into the shadows. "You can't help me. No one can." She chuckled sadly, her hands trembling over her ears. "I sold my soul to the devil in 1974."

He frowned, nearing her. "And the jewels?" he asked on a hunch. Her eyes darted nervously to him as she sobbed, covering her mouth. "What were the jewels?"

"Payment," she spat out, sinking to her knees. Her nightgown bloomed around her as she gripped her stomach, gasping as sobs shook her body. He crouched in front of her, taking hold of her shoulders. She looked up as he blurred in and out of focus, his hands warm against her bare flesh. "Get them out of the house," she repeated, begging as she grabbed a fistful of his shirt. "Please. Don't _ever_ bring them back."

He nodded, covering her hand with his. "They're already gone," he said and she exhaled, shaky in the night. "I locked them up in my safe deposit box at the bank."

"They're cursed," she explained, her voice wavering as she trembled. "They curse whoever they touch."

He shook his head, smoothing her hair down. "You're not cursed," he whispered and she looked up. Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears, her lips parted as she choked back a sob. Her heavy breathing filled the silence between them as his eyes moved over her face. She shifted and he realized that his arms were around her waist. She was warm against him and his grip tightened involuntarily. He froze as she brushed his neck, her arms around his neck. "Not at all," he finally murmured, her sad eyes burning into his soul.

Olivia's fingers skimmed the collar of his shirt, running through the hair at the nape of his neck. His eyes were dark and her heart pounded, her stomach fluttering. Her hands crept over his jawbone to cup his face. The alcohol encouraged her, her head swimming and blood rushing in her ears as she leaned in, pressing her lips against his. She felt his arms tighten around her waist, drawing her in as he sighed against her.

She wanted him. The twenty year old girl inside her was still infatuated with him, she realized as she moaned softly. After all these years, here he was in her arms, making her feel more with a kiss than she ever remembered feeling in the last twenty-three years. She reached for his tie, the silk whistling as she tugged it apart. His hands clung to her hips, watching as she made quick work of the buttons, pushing his shirt from his shoulders.

Their eyes met, mirroring desire before he reached out, crushing her to him. Hungry, he devoured her lips, feeling warmth bloom in his chest for the first time in three years. She trembled against him, not realizing they were on the floor, sharing air. A weightless fog enveloped her as her leg went around his waist and she straddled him. She pushed herself up, gasping for breath.

He watched as her arms slowly went over her head, pulling the silk nightgown from her body. With painstaking care that bordered on awe, she leaned down, their bare chests meeting. His hand cupped the back of her head, pulling her in the rest of the way until their lips met.

Del became a distant memory as her weight spurred him on, his desire an ache that invaded every one of his senses. The girl she once was…the woman she was now. His fingers dug into her flesh and his tongue conquered her mouth, determined to capture every ounce of her.

Anything not to feel alone anymore.


	9. Libertango

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Nine: "Libertango"

"This better be good," Bette grumbled, leaning over to kiss Olivia's cheek as she dropped into the chair next to her. "It's so _early_."

"I know," Olivia murmured, glancing around before she pulled out her flask. She discreetly poured a very generous splash of vodka into her orange juice and tucked it away so quickly that Bette nearly missed it.

"Oh boy. It's _that_ kind of morning," she sighed. She glanced over at her sister-in-law, a dark pair of sunglasses firmly planted on her face. "Rough night?" She watched Olivia flinch and cough.

"Something like that," she muttered, downing a gulp. She sat forward, her elbows on the table as she leaned her head into her hands. "Oh, Bette…"

"You know, I know that sigh. That 'Help-me-I-don't-how-to-fix-the-mess-I've-made' sigh." She waited until Olivia looked up, an embarrassed blush flushing in her throat. "What did you do?"

Her hands went to her cheeks, sighing at the way they trembled against her flesh. "Last night, I…slept with Gregory." She sat, waiting for the fallout she expected.

She didn't expect the nuclear bomb.

"You…_what_?" Bette hissed, leaning in angrily. "My brother's been dead _barely_ a month and-"

"Oh, Bette, please. You know what kind of marriage Del and I had."

"He knew too, apparently." She sighed, collapsing against the back of her chair as she thought back to the will reading. "He all but practically spelled it out. 'Faithful Olivia,' wasn't that what he said?"

"I was just as faithful as he was," she argued, her head throbbing. "You yourself knew how faithful _that_ was."

"But, so soon? And, what about Thomas and Louise?"

"Coffee?" the waitress asked pleasantly.

Olivia shoved her mug over, steam rising as the waitress poured it full. "I've got an awful headache," she sighed, causing her sister-in-law to chuckle.

"Hangover…or regret?"

"Both." The waitress bit back a smile as she turned away and Olivia sighed, taking a tentative sip. "The children weren't home. No one was."

"Hmm, when the cat's away…"

"Please, stop." She looked up, brushing her hair back. "I need to talk to you about what happened."

"_I'll_ tell you what happened: Gregory. It was only a matter of time before you let yourself go loopy around him."

"Loopy?"

"You know what I mean. Ridiculous." She sighed, stirring milk and sugar into her coffee. She tapped the spoon against the mug until Olivia winced. "Oh, so sorry," she said sweetly.

"Maybe I was a little ridiculous."

"Of course you were. What did you think was going to happen if you stayed in Gregory's house, slept in his guest room?"

"Believe it or not, I wasn't thinking of _that_ when he offered to have us stay there." Bette's eyes were skeptical and she turned away from her, suddenly annoyed. The early morning sun stained the ocean and she looked out at the horizon, imagining her children tucked into the berths below deck on Gregory's boat. "Maybe," she finally said, turning back to Bette, "it _was_ a mistake to stay with him for so long."

"You think?" she scoffed.

"I mean, it's not as if the papers are still writing about Del's murder every day. Maybe we can move back into the hotel?"

"Or, you can stay with me, like I offered."

"Bette, you know I won't stay with you. Annie lives there too."

She shook her head, watching her over the rim of her mug. "You wouldn't know it though. She met some new fellow and she's hardly been home these last few days."

"Hmm. Regardless, it wouldn't work."

"But staying with Gregory this last month has?"

Her face turned as she winced. "Thomas and Louise get along with his children," she said meekly.

"Right. And, that's the _only_ reason you stayed. Admit it: a part of you got a cheap thrill from living under the same roof as Gregory!"

"Oh, alright! Yes! I did!" She watched Bette smile, satisfied.

"Olivia," she said sternly, reaching for her hand, "listen to me. You're my best friend. I've loved you since before my brother married you, so I want you to keep that in mind when I tell you-"

"What?"

She sighed. "You have _got_ to get over this thing you have for Gregory. Listen Toots, no good will come of it. You're not twenty any more."

"Thank you. I'm very aware of the march of time through my life." She sat back, crossing her arms against her chest. "This was one night…one mistake."

"Oh, Hallelujah. You've come back down to Earth."

"I never left," she muttered as she reached for a croissant and promptly began to shred it. "He's lived a whole life since I last saw him. He found a wife. They had this wonderful life together and then he lost her."

She nodded, sighing sadly. "Alex's death…that was a tough time."

"He still loves her," she said softly, pushing the plate of croissant crumbs away. "Every time someone mentions her, I can see it in his eyes." She shrugged, slipping the sunglasses from her face to rub her eyes. "So, last night…I was drunk and he felt sorry for me."

"That's all?"

"That's all," she said, not able to ignore the regret coursing through her veins. It would never be more than that for them.

Bette sat quietly, watching the dark circles beneath her friend's eyes, the blue irises dulled into submission. "Nothing's gone right, huh?" she sighed, patting her hand before she nudged the sunglasses back to Olivia. "For either of us."

She nodded, settling the dark glasses back onto her face. "We're cursed," she sniffed, letting her fingers curl around the hot mug of coffee. "For what we did that night to Elaine. We'll never be happy. Ever."

"We don't deserve to be."

Looking down at her lap, she whispered, "The will is out of probate. The jewels were delivered to me yesterday."

"You didn't tell Gregory how you and Del ended up with the Deschanel jewels, did you?"

Olivia looked up, rolling her eyes. "Why yes, of course I did. That was right _before_ I slept with him." She scoffed, reaching for her mug. "Why on earth would I tell him about _that_?"

"I worry about your judgment when it comes to Gregory," she said, ignoring the way Olivia sighed and turned back away. "Is it awful," she asked after several minutes of contemplative silence, "that I thought what we did died with Del? That we would finally be free of it?" From the way Olivia slowly looked over, her face suddenly pale, she knew they had shared the same wish.

It just wouldn't come true.

* * *

Gregory's pen raced across the paper, circling and scratching with a vengeance. The sheet fluttered as he turned it over, reaching for a new one. Again and again, the cycle continued, hour after hour, day after day.

Until, he stopped abruptly and sat back, tossing the pen away. He flexed his hand, his knuckles cracking. The home was silent, completely devoid of any life beyond the four wall of his study. It was the first time in nearly a month that he was completely alone. Sean's return and the presence of Olivia and her children had all but assured that Haven was brimming with life again.

With a deep sigh, he glanced at the papers stacked on his desk and reached between them. The frame was heavy in his hand, a twisted vine of gold leaves snaking around the edge. He looked down, Alex's radiant smile glowing from behind the glass. The chair creaked as he leaned back, still finding it possible to lose himself in the sparkle of his wife's eyes.

He glanced away, his mind wandering to the previous night. Olivia's eyes had been bottomless pools, churning with grief and pain. But, still he had been drawn to her, lost in the warmth of her arms and the curves of her body. Slowly, he turned back to the photo, tracing the line of Alex's chin with his finger. "Was this really the promise you wanted me to keep?"

The minutes rolled together as he gazed at the photo. The silence was deafening and his hand tightened around the frame, the glass cool. They couldn't have been more different, Alex and Olivia. They were the sun and the moon, the polar extremes of his universe. And yet…

_Oh, Gregory. Stop trying to rationalize everything._ He flinched as Alex's chuckle echoed in the silence. _Haven't you learned by now that some things are beyond your control?_

"You died," he whispered, holding the picture over his heart. "If that wasn't proof of my powerlessness, I don't know what is." He heard her sigh and he could almost imagine the rueful way she shook her head, her tongue clicking.

_Always the forest, never the trees. _

He couldn't help but grin as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "I miss you."

_I know._

"The children miss you."

_I miss them._

He opened his eyes when the silence grew, folding his hands over the frame. "Alex?" he asked, wondering if he was just imagining it all.

_Gregory, you promised me. You promised me you wouldn't be alone._

"I know."

_Caity and Sean aren't children anymore. They've grown up…and they're going to leave and start their own lives. _

"I know," he repeated with a sigh, gazing into the cream colored ceiling.

_I couldn't bear you being alone._

He looked down at the picture, drawn to her still. "I've got you."

She sighed sadly. _You have the memory of me. A memory can't hold you at night or dance with you on the Satya._

Gregory sat forward, gently returning the photo to the corner of his desk. A feather light touch caressed the back of his neck and he closed his eyes, relishing the sensation. "Alex…" he murmured.

_Be happy, my love. _

The air shifted and he looked up, finding himself alone once again.

* * *

"Good morning."

Cole lowered the paper and looked up, seeing Annie hovering in the bedroom door. He grinned, folding the paper as he stood. "Sleep well?" he asked, holding out one of the dining room chairs. With a nod, she sank into the chair, the hem of his button-down shirt riding up on her thighs.

She leaned on the table, brushing back her hair. "Very well," she cooed, cupping his face.

He leaned in, kissing her deeply. "Good, I'm glad," he whispered when he finally pulled back, looking deep into her green eyes. "Are you hungry? You slept through breakfast, but I'm sure we could…"

She stood slowly and came around to his chair, holding his shoulders as she sat in his lap. Her toes curled when he grinned and she reached out, running her fingers through his thick dark hair. He clung to her hips, the shirt bunching beneath his fingers. "Very hungry," he marveled as her thighs tightened around him.

With a giggle, she arched her back as his fingers slipped up to the buttons. "Starving," she gasped as he pushed the shirt apart and wrapped his arms around her. He crushed her against him, kissing the breath out of her as her arms went around his neck. When his lips danced over her jaw bone and down her throat, she tilted her head to give him better access.

As she cupped the back of his head, losing herself in the way his lips devoured her throat, she noticed the newspaper scattered on the floor of the hotel suite. Her stomach flipped when she saw her father's stern glare on the front page and she raised her hands to Cole's chest, pushing him back as she stood. "Is this today's paper?" she asked, crouching to examine the newsprint as she re-buttoned the shirt.

"Yes," he said quietly, watching her read the article.

"My father's will is out of probate," she announced, her voice flat.

"Didn't you know what was in it though?" he asked, feigning confusion as he crouched next to her. "You were at the will reading."

She nodded and looked up, a deadly gaze in her eyes. "Only of how things were divided. I didn't know the details of what Olivia got."

"Oh?" he said casually, peering over her shoulder. "Anything interesting?"

"Plenty." She passed him the paper and folded her arms angrily against her chest. "Well? Do you see what I mean?"

Cole nodded, pretending to read the article. "The real estate alone makes her one of the wealthiest women in California, I would think." He listened as Annie scoffed and leaned against him, resting her head against his shoulder. "And, the money, stocks and jewel collection only add to that."

"Ugh, I know." She sighed deeply, glaring at the newspaper. "I don't even know how Daddy got the Deschanel jewels. That's the first I ever heard of them."

He glanced over, amused. "Come now, Annie. Of course you know how your father got them." She looked up, meeting his eyes as he continued, "Your step-mother is just like mine: always demanding more, more, more. I'm sure she saw them at some auction house and made your father get them for her." She turned away, lost in thought. He leaned over, whispering in her ear, "And a beautiful woman only wants beautiful things."

Annie spun around, the fibers of the area rug burning into the flesh of her thighs. "You think she's beautiful?" she asked accusingly.

He grinned, shaking his head as he leaned in and kissed her lips. "No, I think _you_ are. But, I know women like Olivia." He stood and extended his hand, helping her to her feet. His arms hung around her waist, locking their bodies together. "You know…"

"What?" she asked when he trailed off, shaking his head. "Tell me."

"Well, Sweetheart," he said, casually dropping the term of endearment into his explanation, "it's just not fair. People like Olivia and my step-mother walked away with everything and people like you and I are left with nothing."

"I know," she sighed angrily as she shook her head. "They've got too much."

"More than they know what to do with," he said, wondering when she would take the hint.

"She doesn't deserve it. _Any_ of it." She turned, reaching for the paper on the floor. "Especially not jewels that are probably worth millions and millions of dollars."

He bit back a sigh and nodded deeply when she looked at him. "It's too bad there's nothing we can do," he said softly, leaning forward to kiss her forehead.

She watched him turn away, her flesh tingling. "Wh- what do you mean?"

He grinned briefly, letting his expression turn to one of confusion as he turned back to her. "Well, nothing. Not really."

"No," she insisted, coming right up to him. "Do you think there's some way we can get them?"

"The jewels?" he asked.

"Of course! We just said that it wasn't fair that she had them!"

"Well, yes. But what can we do?"

"You can talk to her!" she exclaimed after several moments of silence. "You're a museum curator!"

"Well, I'm just an _assistant_ curator." He smiled, shrugging bashfully. "Annie, I don't see-"

"Oh my gosh! Cole, this could work! This could really work."

He watched as she began to pace, mumbling to herself. "Annie?"

"I've got it!" She spun around, a wide smile on her face. "You could give Olivia some ridiculous made up story about wanting the jewel collection for your museum."

"Ok…" he said slowly. He had to hand it to Annie. She really wasn't the flake he originally pegged her for. "And, then what?"

"We steal the jewels!" she said proudly, her face flushed with excitement.

"We. _Steal_. The. Jewels."

"Yes! You get her to relinquish the jewels for exhibition in your museum. And then, oh no," she exclaimed, her face turning into a mockery of sadness as she pouted, "there's a robbery. Or a plane crash. Whatever. The point is, we can run away with them!"

"But, Annie, I'll lose my job."

"Oh, who cares about that?" She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck as she hugged him tightly. "We'll have the jewels and with my inheritance, you'll never have to work again! We can go anywhere!"

"Anywhere?" he asked, a hint of interest infused in his question.

"Anywhere," she promised, cupping his face. "I've always wanted to go to Tahiti. How about you?"

He screwed up his face in thought, cocking his head. "Tahiti sounds nice," he finally replied.

"So, you're in?"

He nodded, picking Annie up and spinning her around. "I'm in."

* * *

"_Daddy? We're home!_"

Gregory came down the hall, following the laughter and voices echoing in the foyer. "I can see everyone had a miserable time," he deadpanned.

"The worst time," Caitlin joked, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

"Well, better luck next time."

"Next time couldn't be better," Louise said, playfully smacking her brother's hand away from her braids.

"We had an amazing night," Sean added, speaking for the group.

"Perfect weather and calm seas," Thomas added, glancing around. "Where's my mother?"

"_Here, Darling_." They looked up, watching as Olivia slowly came down the stairs. She stepped into her son's embrace, pulling Louise in. "Did you have a good time?"

"It was great," the teenage girl exclaimed, grinning at her mother.

"Hmm, you could have used more sunscreen," she decided, cupping her daughter's slightly sunburned face.

"Come with me," Caitlin said, gesturing for Louise to follow. "Rose keeps aloe gel in the refrigerator."

"Refrigerator…food. God, I'm starving," Sean sighed as he trailed after the girls, Thomas in his wake.

Gregory looked over at Olivia, slightly amused at the way she painfully avoided looking at him. "I'm glad they got away," he said finally, watching as she flinched when he spoke. "Did them all good to get out of the house."

"Yes," she nodded as she sighed and slowly looked up. His dark eyes glittered as they moved over her and her stomach flipped. She forced her trembling hands together, locking them before her as he stepped closer to her.

"I didn't see you at all today," he pointed out, watching the way a pale flush rose in her throat.

She shrugged nervously, gesturing to the staircase and then the front door. "I had breakfast with Bette and then-"

"We were supposed to meet for a briefing on the resort project." He watched as her face turned uncomfortably before she nodded slowly. "Do you have time now?" She nodded again and he turned, hearing her footsteps behind him. "It shouldn't take long," he explained after a moment. "You've come into the project early enough that we can catch you up in no time."

She nodded blandly, following him into his study. The room was flooded with sunlight, glowing on the polished wood of his desk. He brushed past her to close the door and she flinched, stepping away from him. She felt his eyes on her, lingering as he went back to his desk. "You, Ben and I are the primary investors," he began, holding out a thick sheaf of documents. Their fingers danced together as she took it, forcing her eyes down. "Del secured his, now _your_, stake several months ago," he continued, watching as she clutched the packet to her chest, still not looking at him. "The architect submitted his proposal and-"

"Gregory, about last night," she interrupted, slowly raising her head to meet his eyes. She shook her head slowly, her lips parted as the color drained from her face. He sighed, watching as she dropped the papers to his desk and shrugged helplessly. "I wasn't- I never would've-"

He watched her falter, struggling to give life to the emotions coursing through her. "Olivia," he said softly, coming around the desk, "it's alright." He took her arm, guiding her into the leather chair.

"No!" she insisted as his hand slipped down to her wrist. "You don't understand." He could never understand what last night had meant. The culmination of the sad story of her life, lost in his arms and a sea of expensive wine. His fingers were warm around her wrist, pressing into her flesh. She forced a watery smile to her face as her free hand brushed the tears from her eyes. "I can't keep living here," she murmured, pulling her hand out of his grasp.

"Because of last night?" he asked. "Olivia-"

"Please…stop saying my name." She watched him look up and she stood, shaking her head. She closed her eyes, ignoring the way his eyes burned into her back as she whispered, "I made a mistake." The silence quaked between them and she opened her eyes, glancing over her shoulder. "We both did."

He nodded, standing. Her blue eyes danced nervously as he neared her but he turned at the last minute to lean against his desk. His face was frozen in a stern expression and she sighed, watching the fine line of his jaw. "That doesn't mean you need to stop living here. Where will you go?"

"Back to the hotel, I suppose."

"Our children get along though," he pointed out. "They're friends."

"They can still be friends if they live in different homes."

With a sigh, Gregory folded his arms across his chest and watched her step closer to him. "When will you leave?" he heard himself ask, drawn to the way her eyes sparkled as she stood in a ray of sunlight.

"Tomorrow, if you don't mind having us one more night." He shook his head and she sighed, clasping her hands. "I just- we're going to be working together now and- I don't want-"

"I don't think last night is going to interfere with our work at Liberty. But, you should know," he said, his arms falling to his sides as he stood, unblinking as he looked at her, "I don't agree that it was a mistake."

Her stomach flipped as his words echoed in her mind. "Wh- what?" she stammered, watching as he slowly bridged the distance between them.

"You heard me," he said quietly, drawn to the way her lips quivered. She jumped when he placed his hands on her hips, their mouths brushing together. "I don't make mistakes."

She began to shake her head, an argument dying in her throat as his lips pressed to hers. He drew her against him, discovering her mouth as her hands fluttered against his shoulders. "We can't," she gasped, his chest warm and inviting against her own.

He looked down, turning her chin up with his finger. "Tell me to stop," he murmured, slowly guiding her steps. "Keep telling me it's a mistake."

"Gregory," she sighed, bumping into his desk as he backed her into it, "this is-"

"This is what?" he asked, his fingers dancing against her blouse.

"Madness," Olivia sighed, the pale pink silk rippling as he gently pulled it free from the waist of her pants. He felt her tremble against him, their faces brushing together as she avoided his lips. Her breathing quickened, heavy in the silence as she leaned away from him. The edge of the desk dug into her as he clung to her hips, their bodies pressed together. He took in the smell of her perfume, the faint taste of vodka on her lips as their mouths brushed together.

"Madness?" he repeated softly, entranced by her full eyes as he reached up to cup her face. "Loneliness is madness," he murmured honestly, his fingers grazing her ear lobes. As she began to look away, he pulled her in, crushing his lips to hers. His arms went around her as he pushed her up onto the desk. Picture frames clattered together and papers fluttered to the floor as they shook the desk. She gasped as she found herself pushing his shirt open and raking her nails across his chest.

He muttered a curse in reply as he gave up on the small buttons of her blouse and ripped it open. They ignored the way the small pearl buttons bounced and scattered on the floor as he leaned against her, their open mouths hungry against each other. Their eyes met for a long moment, the desire in her blue eyes meeting the lust in his brown ones. She sighed, long into the afternoon as his fingers explored her body, coaxing the pants from her legs.

As she fought with his belt then the fly of his pants, he watched her. Against her heaving chest, a rosy hue flushed her face, her eyes bright. Her face had haunted him all day, sneaking up on him when he was least prepared. He reached out, fingering her long dark hair. She looked up, a grin lighting up her face as she finally pushed his pants down.

He pulled her in, their hips fitting together as her legs wrapped around him. His hands ran across her thighs, her flesh as smooth as the silk blouse he divested her of. With a hunger that surprised her, he crushed her against him, warm sunlight surrounding them.


	10. Madame Guillotine

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Ten: "Madame Guillotine"

"Good morning," Louise sighed, walking into her mother's bathroom and jumping up to sit on the sink.

Olivia glanced over, watching her daughter toss her hair over her shoulder. "Sleep well?"

She shrugged. "Not bad. This house makes weird noises though."

"It does not make noise," she chuckled, brushing rouge onto her cheekbones.

"It does," the teenager insisted, picking at the plaid skirt of her school uniform. "Not as much noise as the house in Cape Town, but enough."

"Well, the next time I buy a house, I'll tell the realtor to make sure it's a _quiet_ house."

Louise grinned, smoothing her knee socks. "You're making fun of me?"

"Just a little," she said, leaning in to kiss her daughter's cheek. "You're up early," she pointed out, hearing Louise follow her out of the bathroom. "I don't think Theresa has your breakfast ready yet."

"Good. Can you listen to my presentation then? I think I've got it timed to five minutes."

She nodded, walking into her closet. "What's it about?"

"Well, we're reading _Hamlet_ and we need to…"

Louise's words ebbed over her, comforting and soft as she changed into her clothes. _A new wardrobe…a new job…a new house…a new life_, she thought to herself. The oval mirror stood in the corner of the walk-in closet and she turned, admiring the cut of the business suit. Instantly, she imagine Gregory behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist to unbutton the blouse. Her cheeks flamed as a proud smirk spread across her face. They may be living apart, but the hours at the Liberty offices were long. "And, the meetings even longer," she murmured, wondering briefly if the delicate material would wrinkle when Gregory stripped her. For the first time in her life, she was truly enjoying herself.

"Mom?" Louise called. "Can I start?"

She gulped, smoothing down her hair as she stepped out of the closet. "Yes, Lou. Go ahead."

"Ok, just imagine the music."

"Music?"

"Mo-om," she whined, rolling her eyes as she put her hands on her hips, "were you even listening to a word I said?"

"Relax, Lulu," Thomas said, breezing into the bedroom, "Mom's got Liberty on the brain."

"What do you mean?" Olivia asked sharply as her son held up two ties against his shirt.

"Red or blue?" he asked, ignoring his mother's question. "Gregory's letting me sit in on a meeting with the partners from New York."

"Blue," Louise snapped, tapping her foot impatiently. "Now, can _someone_ please listen to my speech?"

Olivia reached for her son's hand and turned it to see the watch on his wrist. "I'm timing you. Go ahead, Lou." She turned back to her son, her eyebrow arched. "What did you mean?" she asked in a whisper.

He shrugged as he looped the blue tie around his neck and began twisting it into a Windsor knot. "What? About you being busy?"

A sigh of relief consumed her as she nodded, glancing quickly to nod at Louise. "This development project is taking on a life of its own."

He chuckled. "Gregory told me about the hippies," he said, causing his mother to roll her eyes.

"They're one of my _many_ meetings for the day." She smiled at her son, watching as he straightened his tie. "Have a good day, Darling."

"Thanks. You too." Thomas grinned as she turned back to listen to Louise, nodding encouragingly. He leaned over the dresser and gazed into the mirror, wondering if he had made a mistake with the tie choice when he noticed his mother's bed in the reflection. He narrowed his eyes, squinting to discern the splash of maroon amongst the pale blue sheets.

Turning slowly, he walked over to the bed, his mother's back to him. With itchy fingers, he reached down and gently pulled a man's tie free from the fluffy pillows. His stomach flipped as he stared down at it, the silk material burning his hand. He looked up at his mother, his expression blank as he slowly folded the tie and tucked it into his pocket.

* * *

"Mrs. Douglas?"

Olivia looked up as her secretary stood in the doorway, gesturing her next meeting in. She looked at the young man's eager smile and grimaced as she stood, coming around the desk. This stranger had a large briefcase in his hand and, despite the polite smile, a mysterious look clouded his eyes. "Mr. St. John?"

Cole nodded, clearing his throat as he held out his hand. "Mrs. Douglas, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," he said, laying his French accent on thick. "I've been looking forward to this meeting for some time."

She nodded to her secretary, who turned and left, closing the door softly behind her. "Have you?" she asked, gesturing him into a chair.

"_Absolument_," he smiled as he sat his briefcase aside and watch her sit behind the desk. He took a moment to glance around the office, the honey wood accented by crème-colored cushions and hues of gold and rose. A framed photo stood in the corner of the desk, its back to him, but he could imagine the proud photo of her two children. _A woman's office_, he sniffed as he turned back to her, settling his briefcase on his lap. "It was worth the wait to get on your calendar."

"And, you came all the way from Paris for me?"

"Well, yes…and no." He watched her eyebrow arch as she leaned back, amused but curious. "It was the lure of the Deschanel jewel collection." Her expression fell away, replaced by trepidation as she sat up. "But, please, allow me to first express my deepest condolences on the loss of your husband."

She nodded as his dark eyes locked on her, a shiver chasing up her spine. "What about the jewels?" she asked softly.

"I'm the assistant curator at the _Musee du Bourbon_." He held out a business card, finally pleased with the chance to let someone other than Annie see the fake card. "Alas, we are less well-known than some of our sister museums, but we maintain a collection of 6,400 pieces."

She nodded, glancing briefly at his card before she set it aside. "I haven't been to Paris in some time," she said, as if that explained her unfamiliarity with his museum.

"Oh, that is a pity," he sighed. "Paris would agree with a woman as beautiful as you." But, she barely smiled and he crossed his legs, content to wait her out. Her eyes looked back at him, growing warier with each passing second of pregnant silence. With every passing second, his pleasure grew. He had waited _years_ for this moment. "The Deschanel jewels interest me," he said finally, watching her eyes darken a shade.

"Why?" Her voice was flat, her question nearly accusing.

Cole bit back a smile and shrugged. "Beautiful things interest me," he replied simply. "And the pieces are stunning."

"You've seen them? How?"

"_Oui_." He reached for his briefcase and popped the locks, pulling out a large piece of thick paper. As he turned it around to her, she realized it was a poster print of painting. A pale woman, her hair powdered, stood by a harpsichord, the wide skirt of her ornate gown flowing around her. "Meet Gabrielle Victoire de Sannois, the _Duchesse du Chatel_. This reproduction diminishes the portrait's use of color and light, but I trust you recognize the diamonds around her neck?" She nodded, the necklace from the Deschanel collection impossible to mistake. "Do you know the story of how the Deschanel jewels came to be, Mrs. Douglas?"

"No."

"Ah, then you are in for a story," he said, passing her the poster to examine. "Rene Augustin Edouard Deschanel was a minor official during the Revolution. He was one of the many young men who heeded the call to free themselves from the oppressive monarchy. Rene became an intimate of Robespierre's and, as a result, he went far in the First Republic. Then, in 1793, the Terror began. _La Reine_, Marie Antoinette, was one of it's first victims."

Olivia looked up from the portrait of Gabrielle, her hand trembling as she sensed the change in his tone. "And her?"

"The _Duchesse du Chatel_, like so many men and women of the aristocracy who didn't manage to flee the country, was imprisoned after the Revolution and ultimately lost her head to _Madame Guillotine_. Robespierre was convinced the new republic was wrought with conspiracies and monarchists. Rene was tasked with seeking them out. Those brought before him were interrogated, tried and sentenced to death. 'To forgive was barbarous' and Rene extracted his last revenge by confiscating the belongings of the walking dead."

She swallowed hard, turning back to the extravagant necklace in the portrait. Cole's voice echoed around her as he whispered, "He built his jewel collection by ripping them from the women he sent to the guillotine. His luck ran out though when public sentiment turned against Robespierre. They were both sent to the guillotine in July 1794. But, the Deschanel family kept the jewels and the other riches Rene stole."

Her stomach turned and she passed the poster back, no longer able to stand Gabrielle's innocently sweet smile. "And, these are the jewels you find so _interesting_?"

"But, of course!" he exclaimed. "Despite the way they were amassed, you possess one of the most complete collections of 18th century French jewels. Of course, _I_ don't believe the myth of the curse." He watched Olivia freeze and look up slowly, her face deathly pale. "But there are some who insist the jewels are cursed, haunted by their former owners. As such, tragedy has seemed to befall every generation of the Deschanel family…or anyone else who owns them."

She forced herself to chuckle, brushing her hair back. Ice dripped in her stomach and her heart pounded as she leaned forward. "Mr. St. John-"

"Cole, please," he said, flashing her a smile.

"What exactly to you want from me?"

"Your permission to bring the jewels home to France. I'd like to display them in my museum."

"No," she replied immediately, her breath rushing out in a deep sigh.

"Mrs. Douglas, I don't know that you realize what this would mean to my museum – to my _country_ – for these jewels to return home for exhibition. The Terror is a stain on-"

"My answer," she said, her voice low and serious, "is _no_. The jewels are securely locked away and they will remain there." _Forever, gathering dust since they can't rot in Hell_.

Cole's hands clenched, balled into tight fists as he watched her. She regained the color in her face at an alarming rate, her eyes flashing as she stood. He forced himself to stand, his fists loosening as he picked up his briefcase and the poster. "There is nothing I can say to change your mind?"

"There is not," she replied as the door to her office swung open, preceded by a brief knock. She looked over, relief flooding through her as Gregory stood in the doorway.

"I didn't realize I was interrupting," he said, glancing from Olivia to Cole and back again. "Your secretary wasn't at her desk, so…"

"It's fine," she said, swallowing her unease. "We're through." She turned back to Cole, who held out the reproduction of Gabrielle.

"Please, I'd like you to have this," he said, waiting for her to take the poster. "Perhaps seeing her will make you reconsider."

She shook her head, her hands resting on the desk. "Mr. St. John, I promise you: I will _never_ change my mind."

He forced a smile to his lips, setting the poster on her desk. "A memento then." He held out his hand, waiting until she reluctantly shook it. "I wish you well, Mrs. Douglas."

Olivia followed him to the door of her office, her hand brushing against Gregory's as she passed him. But, Cole stopped and turned abruptly, a question dancing in his expression. "Mrs. Douglas, before I go…how is it that you and your late husband acquired the Deschanel jewels?"

She froze, her hand dancing on the doorknob as she opened her mouth. Gregory's eyes were on her too and she suddenly felt sick, bile rising in her throat. "Wh- what?"

Cole thrived on her paralysis, watching the way her eyes narrowed as she clutched the door, searching for an explanation. _Surely, she knows the truth_. "I wasn't able to locate any record of sale, nor any notice of the collection ever being up for auction." He waited patiently, watching as she finally looked up, glancing at Gregory before turning back to him.

"Well, my husband and I knew…AJ Deschanel. D- Del won them from him in Monte Carlo," she stammered. "A card game."

The obvious lie hung in the room and Cole paused, briefly meeting Gregory's suspicious eyes. "I see," he said stiffly, nodding to the other man. "It must've been _quite_ the game." She looked away, nodding. "_Au revoir_, Mrs. Douglas."

Olivia turned, walking back to her desk. She heard Gregory close the door behind her as she reached for the poster, tearing it half. "What's wrong?" he asked, watching as she dropped the torn pieces into her garbage can.

She turned around, leaning against the desk. "It's nothing," she sighed, unable to shake the unsettling feeling coursing through her.

* * *

"There's the most handsome fellow in Sunset Beach!"

Thomas grinned as his aunt threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight. "Just standing next to you makes me look good," he chuckled, kissing her cheek. She cupped his chin affectionately, a wide smile on her face as he stepped back. "I'm glad you could meet me."

"Well, when the busy legal intern calls and requests a lunch date, how could I refuse?" she gushed, returning to her seat and dropping the napkin in her lap. "How are things at the firm?"

He nodded, swallowing a large gulp of ice water. "Extremely busy. I'm doing a lot more than I expected, but it's all fascinating."

"So, we're still going to lose you to Oxford in a few months?"

He nodded. "Unless, I meet a stunning bathing suit model who needs me to travel the world with her and hold her towel."

She laughed, clinking her water glass against his. "Well, there's nothing wrong with having a back-up plan."

"But, seriously, Gregory's been giving me some brilliant opportunities to really dig in and learn." His eyes fell and he looked down at the starched table cloth as he said, "In a way, I'm rather grateful to Dad for making this happen."

Bette smiled, reaching across to take his hand. "My brother was not the most affectionate man, but Thomas, you must know how proud he was of you." The young man nodded as she squeezed his hand and whispered, "And, how he _loved_ you. My goodness, the day you were born…" she trailed back, her eyes glazing at the memory. "Until then, I'd never seen him so thrilled, not even when Annie was born."

He nodded, letting the waitress interrupt to hand them menus. The red tie had burned a hole in his pocket all morning and he glanced at his aunt, having an idea of who it belonged to. He just needed her to confirm his suspicions. "Having you spoken to Mom lately?" he began casually when the waitress left.

She nodded. "Only on the phone. She's so busy now with all of that Liberty business, I can't even pin her down for a lunch."

"How does she seem to you?"

"Fine." Bette looked up, her eyes wrinkling in confusion. "Why? Did something happen?"

"No, no. It's just…I'm…Well, with Dad - and everything else - I just want to make sure she's ok."

"Oh, Thomas. You're a sweet boy. But, I think Olivia is fine. Your mother is a lot stronger than she looks."

He nodded. "Do you think she's happy?"

"Happy? What do you mean?"

"Aunt Bette," he sighed, "I know my parents didn't have a good marriage." Her eyes fell and she sighed deeply as he continued, "Tell me about the old days, when they were younger."

"Why, Thomas?"

"Were they ever happy?" he asked softly. His aunt was silent and she avoided eye contact, effectively giving him his answer. "Why were they even together?"

Bette sighed, her stomach churning as her nephew looked at her, waiting expectantly. "Oh, Thomas…I don't know you'll understand." She broke off, unable to continue as her mind raced. "That winter…"

"Mom and Dad left Sunset Beach," he prodded, leaning in. "They moved to Puerto Vallarta and got married." He watched his aunt's face turn and he sighed, wishing he could read the thoughts running through her mind. "Did you know then that it was a mistake for them to get married?"

She looked up slowly, meeting his eyes. "I think, deep down, we all knew," she said softly. He nodded, waiting for her to continue. "It was so soon after he divorced his first wife and Annie was barely a year old."

"So, why get married if everyone knew they weren't happy?"

With a sad smile, Bette shrugged. "The hell you know is better than the hell you don't?"

"I never understood that." He looked away, gazing blindly through the restaurant. "But, what I do know is that their marriage is the reason why she drinks."

"Thomas-"

"The same way," he interrupted, "I knew Dad cheated on her every chance he got."

"Oh, Thomas," she sighed, reaching up to rub her temple. The beginning of a headache throbbed and she looked up, her nephew's face strangely blank. "Their marriage-"

"It made Mom miserable." He looked up, getting to the point. "But, now, with Dad gone…she's happy." When his aunt moved to object, he shook his head. "Don't try to pretend she's not. I can see how different she is. She's not even drinking as much as she used to."

A strange thought dawned in Bette's mind and she sat up straighter, her head cocked. "Thomas, what are you say-"

"You know what I'm saying," he said softly, meeting her suddenly fearful gaze. "Dad's death was the best thing for her." She pursed her lips, her heart leaping into her throat when she heard her nephew say, "But you know that. Just like you know about her and Gregory."

* * *

Cole walked into his hotel suite, slamming the door behind him. He looked up as Annie ran in from the bedroom, her voice agitated as she asked, "Well?"

He shook his head, dropping his briefcase and giving it a swift kick. "She didn't bite."

"What?" she hissed. "At all?"

"Nope," he sighed, puffing out his cheeks. He didn't know if he was more disappointed in himself for believing that Annie's idea could work or because he was still no closer to getting the jewels. "Damnit!"

"But," she sputtered, her eyes flashing as he stalked past her, "you told her about the curse and she still said-"

"I did everything, Annie! And, Olivia said _NO_!"

"Selfish bitch," she muttered, folding her arms across her chest as she narrowed her eyes.

"She's stubborn," he said aloud, almost to himself. He had to admit that Olivia intrigued him, the way her eyes darkened when she refused him. It was nearly admirable.

"Too stubborn."

"Maybe…but that's going to be her weakness." He felt Annie's eyes on him as she sat next to him, her arms going around him. "She's too stubborn for her own good," he continued, resisting the urge to push her off him. "That's going to work to our advantage. We need to force her hand."

* * *

Olivia leaned up on her elbows, the silk sheet feather-light against her back. She looked over at Gregory, laying next to her with his arm flung over his eyes. Silver moonlight fell in through the sheer curtains, illuminating the room enough to see the sheen of sweat on his face. She inched next to him, grinning as her legs slipped between his.

His arm fell away and he sighed, exhaustion clouding his words as he asked, "Aren't you tired?" He opened his eyes, a tired smirk lighting up his face as she slowly shook her head. Reaching up, he cupped her face and drew her in. "Ever?" he murmured, their lips brushing together.

"Not yet," she replied in a whisper, kissing her way across his chin and down his neck. She gasped when he rolled over, pinning her beneath him. He kissed her deeply, one that seemingly consumed her as her arms went around his neck. "Are you?" she gasped, his hands slipping down her waist.

"From the long walk, you mean?"

She laughed softly, his lips dancing across her throat. It amused him that when she left Haven, it was only to move into a house five minutes away. That was how long it took for him to walk down the darkened street and slip into her home, spending the late night hours lost in her arms and bed. Every night for the last several weeks. "You could just stay home," she sighed, stretching her arms out on either side of her.

He looked up, slipping off her to lay alongside her. "You could just stop opening the door," he said softly, her arm curling around his neck as his arm settled across her stomach.

She looked over, her eyes dancing. "Shall we try that tomorrow night?"

"Why not?" he said casually, shrugging. Her eyes flashed as he combed his fingers through her hair. "I haven't had a decent night's sleep in weeks."

"Fine," she sniffed, starting to turn away. He wrapped his arms around her body, holding her snugly against him. Their chests pressed together and her toes curled as his gaze bore into her, unblinking. "Go home and sleep then," she teased, his hand pressing into her bottom.

He grinned, shaking his head as he kissed her. "Then, you'll just drive me mad in the solitude of my bedroom."

"I drive you mad?"

With a chuckle beneath his breath, he closed his eyes as her fingers walked up his arm. "In all the right ways."

Her giggle segued into a yawn as she tucked her head beneath his chin. He drew the sheets up over them, his fingers tracing a lazy design in the small of her back. The quiet swelled between them, her breathing deep and even as his mind wandered. Her body was warm against his and he sighed, believing that sleep was a possibility when he remembered the meeting that so agitated her earlier in the day. "What happened with that French man?" he asked softly. He felt her stiffen and he looked down, his fingers slowing. "Olivia?"

Her eyes opened slowly, her heart beat grinding to a stop. "What do you mean?" she murmured.

"He asked you about the jewels and about how Del got them."

She bit the corner of her lip, her stomach churning nervously. "And I told him."

He sighed. "That wasn't the truth though."

She pushed his arms away, rolling onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. "What does it matter?" She looked over, her eyes dark and strangely distant. "Del had them and now they're…"

"Yours," he replied softly when her voice trailed away. "What is this power they have over you?"

Olivia forced herself to chuckle, folding her hands over her stomach to prevent him from seeing the way they trembled. "They have no power. That's ridiculous," she insisted.

He reached out, gently turning her face to him. "Tell me the truth," he said softly. Her lips disappeared into a grim line as his fingers caressed her chin.

Her heart rose in her throat as tears stung her eyes. _If only… _She found herself shaking her head gently as she heard herself say, "AJ lost them to Del in a poker game." Then, she turned over, giving him her back as she hugged a pillow to her chest.

Several moments of silence inched by before she felt him move closer, pressing his chest to her back. His arm went around her, holding her close. His lips brushed her ear and she sighed, her lungs throbbing against her ribs as she swallowed. "Whatever it is," she heard him murmur, "I'll protect you."

She closed her eyes, a hot tear curling around her nose as he placed a soft kiss on the back of her neck. Her lips parted, quietly sucking air into her tortured lungs. She burrowed into the hollow of his chest and turned her face into the pillow, letting the feathers absorb her silent tears.


	11. Baci

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Eleven: "Baci"

Thomas tucked a stack of depositions beneath his arm and walked down the quiet hallway. Conversation bubbled out from the offices he passed, interspersed with the clicking sounds of keyboards. In the weeks he had interned there, he learned the law firm of _Erickson Vickers_ never knew a dull moment. He turned the corner and stepped into Gregory's reception area. His secretary, Josephine, looked up, an indulgent smile coming to her face. "Good morning, Thomas," she said.

"Ah, the lovely Josephine," he sighed, grinning. "My morning is suddenly brighter, basking in the sunlight of your smile."

She shook her head, watching him. "Young man, you have more charm than you know what to do with."

He chuckled, leaning in with a playful grin. "But, you admit I have charmed you?"

The older woman sighed, her glasses slipping down her nose. "I plead the Fifth," she said, making him groan.

"Oh, poor form." He stood, glancing to the closed door that led to Gregory's office. "Can I leave these depositions for Mr. Richards?"

"Actually, he asked that you bring them in right away. Go on."

"Until tomorrow then, my lady," he said, bowing gallantly before he turned for the door.

Josephine shook her head, an amused smile dancing on her lips. "Too much charm," she murmured, turning back to her computer monitor.

Thomas rapped on the door, waiting until he heard Gregory call him in. He pushed it open and stepped quietly into the spacious office. Gregory was standing by his desk, swinging a wooden baseball bat as he listened to the voice on the speaker phone. "No, no," Gregory said, "she's had ample time to prove herself. She's just not Partner material and I can't recommend her." He ended the call and looked up, the bat dangling over his shoulder. "Depositions?"

He held them out, watching as the lawyer immediately flipped through them. "I already logged the copies in the file room," he said quietly, causing Gregory to glance up.

"Good," he said, putting them aside. He leaned against his desk and gestured the younger man to sit. When he did, he asked, "What do you think of the father's statement?"

"Honestly?" He waited until Gregory nodded before he said, "It's…flimsy."

"Flimsy?"

Thomas nodded and sat forward. "Contradictory…almost like he's holding something back." He watched Gregory's face, admiring the blank expression. It would be something to oppose him in court. "May I?" he asked, reaching for the deposition. When the older man nodded, he picked it up and flipped several pages in. "He says that he heard noises outside and went to investigate."

"And?"

"Well, wouldn't he have noticed the screen of his daughter's window kicked out and on the lawn?"

"It was dark, Thomas." He watched, amused as the younger man shook his head and flipped back to the beginning of the deposition.

"Not that night. It was a full moon. Also, he had motion-sensor security lights mounted from the back corner of the roof." He handed the bound document back to Gregory and said, "I don't think he went outside at all."

Gregory nodded, impressed. "Very good, Thomas." The younger man beamed as he continued, "You'll make a criminal defense attorney yet."

"Well, I don't know," he said, watching as he turned back to the depositions. "Maybe prosecutor."

Gregory grimaced as he laid the baseball bat back in its holder. "You've got too much potential to be wasted like that."

"Except that I could help people and punish the criminals."

"Yes, but not every accused criminal is actually guilty."

He nodded and glanced around the office as Gregory sat behind his desk. "I imagine a prosecutor's office isn't as nice as this."

"Definitely not," Gregory chuckled as he looked back to the stack of documents. He heard the leather seat hiss as Thomas stood, wandering over to the bookcase. A moment later, he heard the young man sigh and he looked up. "Something wrong?"

Thomas turned slowly, shaking his head. "Not really." He sighed, his hands in his pockets as he crossed the room to the desk. He watched Gregory, leaning back in his chair as he waited. "I just wanted to thank you for the kindness you showed my family." The other man was silent, watching him with eyes that narrowed and hardened slightly as he continued, "And to my mother especially."

Somewhere, a window opened, allowing ice-cold realization to flood through Gregory. In an instant, he realized that Thomas knew about him and Olivia. He sat up slowly, eyeing the young man sternly. "Thomas-," he began.

"Did you know my mother is an alcoholic?" Thomas asked softly. He waited until Gregory nodded and he sighed deeply. "She thinks she hides it well, but she's been one for as long as I can remember. It wasn't until I was older that I realized it was because she was desperately unhappy." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the red tie, returning to Gregory. "She doesn't know that I know about you and her," he admitted. "Neither does Louise." He sat back, meeting Gregory's eyes as he continued, "I could ask you what your intentions are, but that would be far too presumptuous."

"I see," he replied coolly, watching as Thomas leaned in.

"Just...don't hurt her. My father did that for over two decades and she deserved better. And as for me, I'll stay quiet."

"Until?" Thomas cocked his head as Gregory explained, "That sounded like an ultimatum."

The young man grinned, his eyes sparkling as he chuckled. "Well, then. Maybe I'll make a defense attorney after all."

* * *

Sean exhaled tiredly as he turned onto his street. The wipers sloshed across the windshield, clearing the glass before a fine but steady rainfall reappeared. He leaned forward, squinting his eyes as he noticed the slight figure running down the street. The long brown ponytail bounced and as he got closer, he nodded with recognition. He slowed to a stop, the automatic window rolling down. "Hey, Louise…you want a ride?"

The young girl glanced over, her clothes drenched as she nodded. She came around and got in, sliding into the passenger seat. "Thanks," she sighed, loosening her grip on the small dog in her arms. "I was walking her and the rain just came out of nowhere."

"Here," he said, reaching out to switch on the car's heater. He accelerated slowly as he watched her out the corner of his eye. She let the dog lick her face as she unwrapped it from her sweater and used the fabric to pat her face dry. "So…you let the dog have the jacket?"

She nodded, giggling as she glanced over. "Baci's so little. I didn't want her to be cold _and_ wet."

He couldn't help but laugh as he pulled into the driveway of her house. He parked and leaned back as Louise turned to him. "Baci, huh? Does that mean something?"

"It's the Italian word for kisses." She looked down, running her hand over the dog's chestnut-red coat. "I figured it was a good name because she's so friendly and affectionate."

He reached out tentatively, holding out his palm. Within moments, the Irish Setter leaned in, sniffing his fingertips before she licked them. They chuckled and Baci looked up at them, watching silently with unblinking brown eyes. "She's a cute puppy," he said, gently scratching the dog's neck. "You just get her?"

"Last week."

"Probably a good thing. If you were still living at Haven, Dad wouldn't have let her in the front door. He's got a bad allergy to dogs."

"Oh," she said, letting the dog curl up in her lap. "I guess that is good."

He looked at the window, watching the house though the falling rain. "Your new place is nice," he said, admiring the Mediterranean architecture that was in stark contrast to the modern design of Haven. "You like it?"

She giggled, stretching out her legs. "It's fine. There's still a lot of boxes we have left to unpack. So, it's a home in progress."

"It's still new, right?" She nodded and he glanced over, resting back on the head rest. "It'll feel like home soon."

Louise shrugged, letting the patter of the rain fill the silence between the them. She absently ran her hand over Baci's coat as she quietly asked, "Do you mean the house or town?"

"Both, I guess." She sighed, as if she were deeply troubled, and he frowned. "School ok?" he finally asked.

"It's…alright. Quiet."

"But, you've made friends?" After a long moment, she shook her head slowly. A wealth of pity rose within him as he turned to her, watching as her trembling hand rested on the dog's head. "Seriously? None at all?"

She shrugged, turning to him with a sad smile. "No one wants to be friends with the girl whose father was murdered. I suppose it's more fun to gossip about me behind my back," she said softly.

Sean sighed. "You know," he said after several moments of silence, "Caitlin always told me that teenage girls were real bitches."

She giggled as she leaned back in the leather seat. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Kinda," he answered, returning her smile.

"Well…it _kinda _worked. Thanks." They turned forward, looking through the rain spattered windshield. "It is nice of you to try, especially since you weren't thrilled my mom, Tom and I were staying at your house at first."

She glanced sideways at him and he blushed, embarrassed before he nodded. "Yeah…sorry about that," he began quietly. "You know...that really didn't have anything to do with you - or your family. I…well, Dad and I weren't on the best of terms when I came back from Holston."

"But, things are better now?" With a smile, he nodded slowly. "That's good," she sighed. "My father and Thomas were the same way. Dad always said Thomas was too headstrong for his own good and Thomas said Dad didn't understand him."

He sat up when she looked away abruptly, hiding her face as she looked out the passenger window. "Hey…are you ok?" he asked, putting his hand on her shoulder when she shuddered and stifled a sob.

She nodded, turning back to him as she brushed tears from her cheeks, a sad smile dancing on her lips. Her blue eyes were sparkling with unshed tears and he recognized the grief swirling in her irises, the longing for that which could never be. She was just a girl who missed her father, the same way he missed his mother. He squeezed her shoulder, getting her attention as his brow furrowed. "It stops hurting so much after awhile," he whispered.

A lump of angry sadness welled in her throat. "When?"

He faltered when she met his eyes, her expression churning with pain. "A little bit each day," he finally said as the rain slowed. The clouds separated, revealing a patch of fading sunlight.

She sighed deeply, her cheeks puffed out. Baci perked her head up, sighing to mirror her mistress before licking her bare arms. She leaned down, kissing the dog's head. "I should go," she said softly.

He nodded, the automatic locks clicking as he unlocked the doors. She got out, carefully setting Baci on the stone driveway before she turned back. She leaned into the interior of the car, whispering, "Thanks, Sean. For the ride…and the talk."

* * *

"Would you like to see the wine list?"

Olivia looked up after a long moment, shaking her head. "No, thank you. I don't think so."

"Shall I leave it for your husband?" he asked, gesturing to the recently abandoned seat.

Her lips parted, an admonition on her lips before she nodded slowly. He placed the leather bound list on Gregory's plate and turned on his heel. Olivia turned back to her plate, her finger tracing the stem of her water glass. She leaned back in her chair, sighing deeply. "What are we?" she whispered to herself, grateful their table was in a quiet corner of _Grenadine's_.

Friends. Business partners. Lovers.

_All of the above_, she thought to herself as she brought the glass to her lips. Her mind wandered, drifting to Del's video will. _She can't stand a cold bed for too long_, her late husband explained. The ice water ran down her throat and she shivered. Did he suspect it would be Gregory?

Probably, she mused.

The kidnapping of Elaine's son always lingered between them, particularly Olivia's motivation for participating in the crime. Oh, and how Del held _that_ morsel of information over her. She sighed, looking back to Gregory's empty seat. He still thought it was an accident he had missed seeing her and Del all these years, communicating only through letters and the occasional phone call. Her lips disappeared into a tense line, her fingers twitching as she wondered if he would ever figure out the truth. If she would have the courage to speak of it.

A shadow moved over her place setting and she forced a smile, looking up and expecting to find Gregory. "_Bon soir, Madame Douglas_," Cole said pleasantly, watching as the smile fell from her face.

"Mr. St. John," she said coldly, reluctantly taking his outstretched hand. Instead of shaking it though, he bent slightly and brought it to his lips. Her hand trembled and she pulled it back abruptly as she said, "I thought you would have returned to Paris by now."

"Alas, no," he answered as he gestured to the empty seat across from her. "May I?" She watched as he sank into Gregory's chair, barely giving her a chance to object. "I decided to extend my stay and take a little holiday," he explained, blooming in her wary gaze. "This is such a charming little town."

"Is it everything you hoped?" she murmured, folding her shaking hands in her lap. His dark eyes moved over her, examining every inch of her face before ultimately lingering on the rope of pearls and diamonds at the base of her throat. She cringed and glanced away, looking for Gregory.

"For my holiday, yes. But, for my business...," he sighed, shaking his head regretfully. "I don't suppose you've reconsidered my request to-"

"I have _not_," Olivia snapped. She watched Cole sigh and lower his head. When he raised it, his eyes were turned up to her, menacing before a calm smile overtook his expression. Her heart leapt into her throat as a chord of familiarity went through her and she leaned in slightly, trying to place it. She watched him stand, looming over her with that oddly calm expression.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, his tone cold and detached. Her stomach churned, ice running through her veins as he leaned down, his face inches from hers. He reached out, his knuckles grazing her cheek as he whispered, "So _very_ sorry."

"_What's going on here?_"

Olivia jumped as she swallowed a wave of revulsion and watched as Cole slowly straightened up. Gregory came to her side, his hand gentle on her shoulder as she stammered, "N- nothing."

Cole watched, amused, as Gregory turned to him, angry suspicion brewing in his eyes. "Are you sure?" he asked her, even as he stared the younger man down. A thought whispered from the back of Cole's mind and he looked from Gregory to Olivia, instantly understanding. He bit back a smile and stepped away from the table.

She nodded, covering his hand with hers as she looked up at him. "Yes."

Gregory looked down when he felt her touch, her lips quivering as she continued to nod. He turned back to Cole, glaring as he said sternly, "I'm quite certain that since Mrs. Douglas hasn't changed her mind about exhibiting the jewels, we can say this is the last we will see of you."

Cole nodded, looking down at her as he said softly, "_Au revoir, Olivia_."

Gregory watched him leave and turned back to Olivia. Her face was pale and she reached for her water glass, her hand trembling. "Persistent, isn't he?" he asked simply as he sat across from her.

She watched him over the rim of the glass, collapsing against the high-back of the chair. Her breath was shaky and she struggled against the rising unease creeping over her. Her lips parted to reply, but her throat constricted and she looked away, shaking her head. He sighed and leaned in, concerned as her eyes closed. "But, I suppose you'll tell me nothing's wrong?"

A sad smile graced her lips, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. With a sigh, she opened her eyes slowly, gazing blankly across the table to him. The candle in the center of the table flickered on his face, catching the worry and she frowned. "Does it even matter?" she murmured, reaching up to grab the passing waiter's arm. "I'd like a vodka on the rocks." He watched the waiter nod and turn away as Olivia sat up, rubbing her hands together. She chuckled to herself and looked up, sadness oozing from the core of her soul. "You know, I think this is _exactly_ what Del wanted to happen."

"What's that?" he murmured, reaching out to catch her hand. He squeezed it gently, waiting as she sighed, her throat working.

"Me. Miserable and alone...and cleaning up his mess." She exhaled deeply, her head spinning as she murmured, "Atoning for our sins."

He frowned, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles. "You're not alone," he said softly, watching her carefully. "And, I told you: I _will_ protect you."

A sob rose in her throat, threatening to overtake her as she shook her head. Tears glittered in her eyes and she lowered her head, wiping them away. "I don't think that would've surprised Del either," she said, gesturing halfheartedly between them. She watched his face turn as she reluctantly pulled her hand back, explaining as she pressed her palms to her cheeks, "He always knew."

"Knew what?" he asked after several moments of silence. But she only sighed, her lips pursed as she looked away. "Olivia?"

"That man reminds me of someone," she murmured, glancing up and looking again for Cole. "I wasn't sure the first time I met him, but now I'm almost convinced of it."

"Olivia, look at me." Gregory frowned when she turned back, her blue eyes glazed over with confusion. She sighed and looked down, a shudder going through her. "Let me help," he said softly, taking her hand.

Her lips parted as she looked up, feeling his reassuring squeeze. The truth rose in her throat and she leaned in, anguish contorting her face. He waited patiently, watching her struggle against the burden weighing down her slim frame. "I- I'm...afraid," she finally sighed, letting his hand warm her icy flesh.

"Of?"

"You," she admitted after a long moment as a ribbon of honesty spiraled out of control. "Of what you'll think of me if you know the truth."

He watched her for a long moment, her flesh deathly pale. As he cocked his head, he said simply, "Trust me."

She frowned, her chin quivering. "I-" she began as the waiter reappeared, placing a crystal tumbler of vodka before her. She jumped back, ripping her hand free from Gregory's as she retreated to the solitary safety of her chair. Her hand shot out, reaching for the glass and she raised it to her lips, watching him over the rim.

Where she got the very distinct impression that she had somehow hurt him.


	12. Edged Tools

_A/N: To the Guest reviewer who posted a question on 10/16/2012…Cole was __not__ disguised in any way when he met Olivia for the first time in Chapter Ten. He's got a French accent, but I'm not sure if that counts as a disguise. :o) I apologize it took so long for me to respond. _

* * *

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Twelve: "Edged Tools"

_For secrets are edged tools, and must be kept from children and from fools. _- John Dryden

Caitlin glanced up, smiling at the reflection in the mirror. "Come in, Daddy." She turned, watching as her father entered her bedroom, glancing around. "I was just getting ready to leave."

"Well, I'm glad I caught you." Gregory held out a long thin package, the shiny wrapping paper catching on the light. "Happy birthday, Princess."

"Daddy," she chided even as she took the present from him, gauging its heft. "You've given me so much already."

"This is different. Besides, you're only twenty-one once." With an indulgent smile, he watched her lean against her triple dresser as she tore into the wrapping.

Her fingers skimmed over the velvet box, the hinges creaking as she opened it. "Oh, Daddy…" she sighed, gazing down at the rose gold and diamond tennis bracelet. Her eyes flew up to him as he reached out, taking the bracelet out and slipping it around her wrist.

"It was your mother's," he explained quietly, marveling at how similar Caitlin's wrist was to Alex's. She looked down, watching as her father fastened the clasp and held her hand between his. "It was the first gift I ever gave her and she wanted you to have it today."

She nodded, avoiding his gaze as her fingers ran over the cool diamonds. "It's beautiful," she whispered, finally raising her head. When she did, she saw the tears in his eyes and she sighed, throwing her arms around him. "Thank you, Daddy. I- I love it."

He hugged Caitlin close, feeling her tears on his neck. "No tears, Caity. Not today," he murmured, his hand running over her head. She pulled back a moment later, nodding as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Mom wouldn't want you to cry."

She continued to nod, even as her face melted in anguish. "I know. It's just - sometimes…on days like today, I miss her _so_ much."

Gregory took his daughter's hands in his, squeezing gently to stop them from trembling. "Me too," he admitted in a whisper. They stood silently for several moments, lost in their memories and the grief that would never completely leave them. He watched her quietly, gazing off to the side as the left corner of her mouth screwed up in thought. In that moment, she was Alex, who held that same expression the first time he asked her to dinner.

He cleared his throat, getting her attention. "You're going to be late," he said, watching as she nodded and smoothed her golden hair down. "Have a good time with _Him_. Just not _too_ good."

She grinned, returning to her cheerful self. "Ian and I will have a great time." She turned around to the mirror and checked her reflection, missing the way her father grimaced at the mention of her new boyfriend's name. "What are you going to do tonight with the house all to yourself? Sean's gone to the movies with Thomas." She looked up, watching through the mirror as he shrugged.

"I think I might go up the street to see Olivia," he said and she couldn't help but notice the way his eyes softened. "There are some things I wanted to discuss with her before our meeting tomorrow morning."

Caitlin turned back around, watching him carefully. "You and she are good friends too though," she finally said. He nodded slowly and she grinned. "Oh, Daddy," she sighed. "This is so _silly_."

The air shifted as an icy sensation shot up his spine. "I know," he heard her say. "I know about you and Olivia." He cleared his throat, suddenly unable to look into her blue eyes. "How?" he asked finally, causing her to erupt in a fit of giggles.

"Daddy, you've been sneaking out of the house almost every night for two months. You don't come back until dawn." She rolled her eyes at his incredulous expression and continued, "Your eyes light up any time someone mentions her name. It wasn't hard to put two and two together."

He sighed deeply, sitting on the foot of her bed. "And, how do you feel…about Olivia and I?"

She shrugged, brushing her hair behind her ear. "I think that you've been very sad these last few years without Mom. I just want you to be happy…and lately, you have been."

"I still love your mother," he said after a long moment, honesty rising within him. "I always will. She was my first love."

She smiled, her chest expanding as she watched her father. "I know," she said softly, crossing the room to sit next to him. "But Mom knew you would find someone new." She took his hand, squeezing it gently as she continued, "And, she made me promise to be at peace with it when you did because it was what she wanted."

He smiled sadly as he listened to her. It was so like Alex to try and smooth everything over, even from beyond the grave. She only ever wanted everyone to be happy. "You don't think it's too soon?"

She leaned against him as his arm went around her. "No," she replied honestly, meeting his eyes. "Truth is love, remember?" She smiled as he leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Besides, I think Mom would've approved of Olivia. They were friends, right? They exchanged all those letters for years."

He nodded. "I meant too soon for _her_. Del only died three months ago."

Here, Caitlin frowned. "I don't know," she admitted truthfully after a contemplative moment. "I only know that love is one of those crazy things that's never perfect. But, that's no reason to walk away from it. Some things are perfect in their imperfection."

A crooked smile materialized on his face as he tilted his head. "That was very profound."

She grinned. "Well, don't you want all that money you threw at UCLA for my degree to mean something?"

He chuckled and let go of her hand as she stood. "Free advice would be a nice return on my investment."

With a playful groan, she leaned in for a hug and kissed his cheek. "Have a good night," she whispered in his ear.

He reached out to catch her hand, pulling her back. "Do me a favor, Caity? Don't say anything to your brother about Olivia and I." She nodded, his expression serious as he continued quietly, "He's friendly with Louise and I don't want him inadvertently saying something to her."

She cocked her head, her blue eyes sparkling with realization. _Only Sean and Louise shouldn't know, which means Thomas already does_, she thought to herself. "Ok, Daddy. My lips are sealed." Then, she was gone, spinning from her bedroom in a flurry of clicking high heels and floral perfume.

* * *

Louise came down the stairs, Baci shadowing her as the doorbell chimed throughout the foyer. With a tired sigh, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and reached for the front door, pulling it open. "Hello, Gregory."

"Good evening, Louise," he said, stepping in. He looked down as the puppy tentatively sniffed his foot before turning up to him, her head cocked to the left. "Your mother told me she got you a dog."

"Sorry, let me get her." She scooped the dog up, giggling when the puppy nuzzled against her throat. "Sean told me you have an allergy. Are you here to see Mom?"

"Only if she's not busy."

"I'm not sure. She disappeared into her study after dinner and I haven't seen her since. Come on, I'll show you where she is." Gregory nodded, following her through the first floor of the quiet house even though he knew the way. He stopped when Louise did and watched as she gestured to the open doorway. "She's in there. See you later."

"Good night," he said quietly before he stepped into the room. The study was dim, lit only by the golden light spilling from the lamp on Olivia's desk. She was hunched over, her pen flying across a stack of papers. A pair of reading glasses slipped down her nose, balanced precariously on the tip. "Working hard?" he asked softly, not wanting to scare her.

Violins swelled as a romantic symphony drifted from the speakers of an impressive stereo system. She looked up, watching over the dark frames of her glasses as he set a bottle on the end table. "Just prepping for our meeting with the insurance company tomorrow." A pleasant smile came to her face and she dropped her pen, leaning back in her chair. "Louise let you in?" she asked, taking her glasses off and pushing the papers aside.

He nodded, traversing the space between them as she stood. She padded over in bare feet, peering around him to ensure her daughter was nowhere in sight. His hand grazed her waist, burning through her silk blouse to draw her in. She looked up, stepping into his embrace as she pressed against him. "You're _very_ early," she murmured, his face brushing against hers as he leaned in.

With a chuckle, he inhaled the lingering scent of her perfume, his lips dangerously close to hers. "The silence at Haven was too loud," he whispered, cupping her chin and turning her face up. Her lips danced against his and he sighed, deepening the kiss. Her arms went around his neck as he held onto her hips, steadying her.

"Silence is the worst noise," she sighed when they broke apart and he reached up to cup her face. His palms were warm, his fingertips against her earlobes as the soprano's high note echoed around them. Her arm slipped around his waist and she leaned against him, leading him over to the sofa. "Did Caitlin enjoy her birthday?"

"Yes. And now, she's gone out with her boyfriend to continue the celebration," he said distractedly as he replayed the earlier conversation with Caitlin in his head.

Olivia sat on the sofa and looked up expectantly as she reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. With a start, he looked down, confused and she laughed. "I think you brought the silence with you," she joked, her eyes sparkling.

With a sigh, he sat next to her, resting his hand on her thigh. "Sorry. It's just - She isn't a little girl anymore," he explained simply. She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder as he sighed. "She's a woman."

"That's what happens." Olivia looked up, turning his face to her. "Time is marked by the progressive milestones of our children. Then, one day, you look up and realize they aren't the newborns you remember."

He smiled. "It feels like yesterday she was born." He leaned back, gazing up at the ceiling as he continued, "She took her time getting here. Alex was in labor for almost twenty hours." She grimaced at the thought of the long delivery, listening quietly as he rubbed her thigh. "Suddenly, Caity was there, screaming and red-faced. The doctor held her up to Alex, but," he faltered, turning to her, "she said 'Daddy gets to hold her first.'"

They were quiet for a moment, the lyrical chords of a harp and the soprano filling the silence. She watched when he stood abruptly and reached for the bottle on the table. "That night, I bought this," he explained, holding it out to her. "It was a moderately good year for port. Let's see if the experts were right."

"What do you mean?" She watched him go to the bar in the corner, reaching into the cabinet for a roll of paper towel and two small glasses.

He poured the wine into the crystal glasses, using the sheet of paper towel to strain out the sediment. "Alex and I planned on drinking this together one day," he explained softly. He took the glasses and turned around, finding her standing there. He held one out to her, waiting a long moment before she took it. "Today feels right," he murmured, finding her eyes.

She swallowed hard as their glasses clinked together. "To Caitlin," she said softly. Quietly, they stood together, sipping the aged port. A nervous feeling fluttered in her stomach when he suddenly set the glass aside, watching her intently. She lowered the glass from her lips as he stepped closer. "W- what's the matter?"

He took the glass from her hand and left it on the table next to his. His fingers threaded through hers, linking them tightly as he sighed. Her lips quivered slightly as he drew her in, looking deep into her eyes. "Today is right," he explained in a whisper, "because I have someone to share it with."

The color drained from her face even as she managed a slight smile. "Gre-"

"I love you."

The smile fell from her lips and he felt her tremble. His words echoed in her mind and she looked down, suddenly unable to face his penetrating gaze. He stepped closer and reached for her. "I think I've known it for awhile," he whispered, rubbing her shoulders gently. "The thought of you consumes me: in meetings, on the golf course…in your arms."

She closed her eyes, leaning her head against his chest as she listened. "Then," she heard him say, his voice dropping to a wounded whisper, "the other night at dinner, when I asked you to trust me and you-"

Her head flew up, wide-eyed. "I'm sorry," she said, swallowing a lump of emotion. He stepped in, cupping her face as he shook his head. She exhaled, stepping off the edge of no return. She closed her eyes momentarily, falling through the dark night as she whispered, "You have no idea how _long_ I've waited to hear you say that to me."

Gregory turned her face up, her gaze filling the empty hole in his chest. She faltered, sighing deeply as he watched her patiently. "How long has it been?"

She shook her head as he lowered his mouth to hers. "It doesn't matter," she murmured between kisses. A moment went by before she pressed her hands to his chest and turned away slightly. "I love you too," she said, a grin coming to his face. He leaned in, his arms around her back. Her lips tasted like cherries from the port and he sighed, holding her tight.

* * *

"Again."

Annie groaned and flopped down on the bed, pulling the pillow over her head. "No," she sighed. "I can't."

Cole sat next to her and pulled the pillow away. "Yes," he insisted, roughly turning her over. "We need to run though the plan until our eyeballs fall out."

"Mine are already out," she whined. He frowned, causing her to sit up. "We've gone over and over it. I know what to do."

"Annie, I don't think you understand. This is going to come down to precision. If you're even thirty seconds late-"

"Late? Why would _I_ be late?" She scoffed and collapsed back against the headboard, hugging the discarded pillow to her chest. "This was my idea, remember?"

He rolled his eyes, content to let her believe that. "Of course I remember," he lied, inching closer to her. "Sweetie, we need to be so careful. All of this could blow up in our faces in an instant."

"It won't," she hissed. "God, you are being so negative about this."

"I'm being smart," he snapped in return, wrenching the pillow from her arms and hurling it across the bedroom. "We only have this one chance to get it right." He leaned in close, his dark eyes flashing as he growled, "I'm not going to jail because you screw this up, Annie. Now, say it _again_."

She nodded slowly as a chill ran down her spine. "Ok, relax. Your friend, Bobby, will pick her up tomorrow morning when she leaves the house. He'll meet me in Torrance at 7:50-"

"Where in Torrance?" he interrupted.

"-where I'll be waiting at the corner of Doty and 180th. Bobby puts her in the back of my car and I'm back on the 405 by 8:12, heading north until I meet you at the cabin in Squaw Valley."

He nodded. "Good. And, on the way there?"

She sighed, annoyed. "I only stop for gas. I don't talk to anyone. I don't use the bathroom. I don't stop for coffee or something to eat."

Cole forced a grin as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Perfect." She grinned proudly, her arms going around his neck to draw him in. "Wait, wait," he said, pulling away. "What happens if she wakes up?"

She shook her head, climbing into his lap. "She won't. Bobby will give her the sedative when he grabs her and it's guaranteed to last twelve hours."

Her tongue stole into his mouth and he leaned in, returning her kiss. "Nothing's guaranteed," he murmured, his arms going around her back.

Annie smirked, her fingers dancing against the back of his neck. "That's why I'll have another dose ready to go if Sleeping Beauty's eyes flutter."

He pushed her down to the bed, pulling off his shirt and tossing it aside. "You're ready," he said, tracing a line down her throat.

"Then, we get the jewels and it's off to Tahiti," she murmured, her fingertips streaking pink lines on his back.

But, he only kissed her neck in reply, rolling his eyes. _Get the jewels, yes_, he thought to himself. _Tahiti? Now, that's another story. _

* * *

Louise turned down her sheets, slipping her feet from her slippers. With a yawn, she rubbed her eyes and crawled into the bed, pulling the covers up as she closed her eyes. A moment later, a high-pitched whine filled the silence and she opened her eyes, grinning. She rolled over, hanging off the bed to finding Baci staring up at her. "Don't tell Mom, ok?" she whispered, scooping the little dog into her arms.

The puppy promptly crawled beneath the blankets and curled up beside her. The teenage girl giggled and rolled over again. Silence filled the spacious bedroom and her mind drifted aimlessly, from her Math study guide to her book report for English class to the piece for her recital-

"Oh no!" she exclaimed, sitting up quickly. Baci flinched and jumped up, poking her small face out from underneath the covers. "The permission form!"

She jumped out of bed and ran across the bedroom to her school bag. After rifling through it, she pulled out the paper, biting back a sigh. "Terrific," she mumbled as she left the bedroom. She padded down the stairs and silently walked through the darkened first floor of the house. It was her own fault. She should've gotten her mother to sign the form hours ago, but it slipped her mind.

With a shake of her head, she turned down the quiet hall and headed for her mother's study. The door was partially open and she looked through the crack, wondering if her mother was still working. Her eyes widened and she froze, the paper fluttering from her hand. Through the space in the door, she could see her mother and Gregory on the sofa. Her lips parted in surprise as she watched them embrace, their mouths meeting.

Slowly, Louise backed away from the door, her mind racing. A loud hum echoed in her ears as she numbly walked back upstairs to her bedroom. She closed the door softly, leaning against the wood before she slid down it. Baci scampered over and jumped into her lap, happy to once again have her young mistress back. Blindly, she patted the dog's head with a trembling hand as her breath ran short.

Instantly, she remembered the awful day of her father's will reading. She closed her eyes, shaking her head softly as she repeated in a whisper, "Someone should take bets on how long she'll last before she replaces me." She opened her eyes and looked down at the dog, sighing. "She can't stand a cold bed for long, Baci."


	13. April 10, 1997

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Thirteen: "April 10, 1997"

Olivia hurried down the stairs, clipping the double strand of pearls around her neck. Her heels clicked across the floor as she breezed into the kitchen, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee drawing her in. "Good morning, Darling," she said, dropping a kiss on the top of Louise's head as she passed her. "Sleep well?"

Louise looked up slowly, dark circles smudged beneath her blue eyes. She watched her mother's back for a long moment, glaring as she prepared her cup of coffee. "No," she finally muttered, turning back to her book.

"No?" She turned back around, taking a deep sip. With a start, she took in her daughter's pale complexion and reached out, pressing her hand to her forehead. "Do you feel sick?"

The teenage girl jerked away, slamming her book shut. "Yes!" she hissed.

Olivia tilted her head, watching her daughter carefully. "Do you want to stay home today? I can call St. Agnes' and-"

She jumped down from the stool and turned to her mother, her blue eyes narrowed. "I'm going to school. I don't want to spend one more _second_ in this house," she snapped, grabbing her school bag. As she turned to leave, she felt her mother's hands on her shoulders, holding her back and turning her around. Her mother's face was wrinkled with concern as she sighed.

"Lulu, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

The girl's temper snapped and she pushed her mother's hands away with a grunt. Her father's taunting laugh from the video will echoed in her ears as she shrieked, "Everything is wrong! Don't you know that?"

Olivia frowned as she followed her daughter out of the kitchen, watching as Louise's long braid swung from side to side against her back. "Louise, I don't understand-"

She whirled around in the foyer, her voice echoing in the expanse of the vaulted ceilings. "Of course, you don't! You know why? _You're_ the problem!"

Her eyes darkened, no longer willing to indulge her daughter's foul mood. "Louise Elizabeth Douglas! That is _quite_ enough!"

The girl shook her head, her eyes blazing. Her mind raced, her father's words on the video mixing with the memory of seeing her mother kissing Gregory. "Daddy was right! About everything! And, you are a liar! You probably never even loved him!"

Olivia reeled back, the force of her daughter's words striking her as if she'd been slapped. She watched, stunned into silence as Louise delivered a final malevolent glare before she stormed out of the house, slamming the front door behind her. Slowly, she sank to the bottom stair, her daughter's angry words echoing in the silence of the house.

* * *

Sean looked up when he heard the front door slam. He watched silently as Louise stalked over to the car, her face a mask of fury. "Bad morning?" he asked as she got into the front seat.

She glared up at the house, wondering if her mother would follow her. "Can you just take me to school please?" she snapped after several moments when it was clear Olivia wasn't coming.

His eyes widened as he shifted into Drive. "'Thank you for picking me up at the last minute, Sean'," he muttered. The warm sun beamed down on them, the top of his convertible down for the occasion.

She winced as soon as the car hit the street and she looked over at him. "Sorry," she said meekly, turning to him. He glanced at her out the corner of his eye as she asked, "Can you stop for a minute? I need to talk to you."

He pulled over obediently and turned to her, watching her warily. "You alright?"

She shook her head, a torn expression clouding her face. "I was horrible to my mother. I said something mean to her."

Sean sighed and leaned back in the leather seat. "She'll forgive you. Moms always do."

Louise frowned, her eyes downcast. "I wanted to hurt her," she admitted, her eyes dry and burning. "I'm mad at her and I wanted to make her feel bad."

"How come?"

She looked up slowly, surprised. "Don't you know?" she asked softly. She sighed when he shook his head and she pulled her braid over her shoulder, tugging at the end. "Our parents - your dad and my mom. They're…_more_ than friends."

He blushed and was quiet for a few seconds before he finally said, "Oh."

"That's it?" she asked after several moment of silence as she spun forward in the seat. "That's _all_ you have to say?"

Shrugging, he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, what do you want me to say?"

"Something other than 'Oh'."

"Ok," he finally said. "Why are you telling me?" She watched him quietly as their eyes met. "I mean, why aren't you talking to Thomas?"

She shrugged, a sour expression materializing on her face as she watched the reflection in the side mirror. In it, she saw her mother's car pull out of their driveway and take off in the opposite direction, the darkly tinted windows glaring in the sunlight. "He'd be on our mother's side," she finally said, watching as her mother's car disappeared from view.

He shook his head, sighing deeply. "I don't think it should be about sides," he said quietly. He felt her eyes on him and he continued carefully, "My dad has grieved my mom for almost four years. I- I want him to be happy."

"My father hasn't even been dead four _months_," she snapped, jumping out of the car. Wide-eyed, he watched her come around the front of the car to stand next to the driver's side. "She hasn't grieved him at _all_. And, you know what the saddest part of all is? Daddy knew it. He _knew_ she would do this."

"Hey! Wait!" he called, scrambling out as she stalked off down the street. "I thought you wanted a ride to school?"

"Forget it!" she called over her shoulder as he stood helplessly in the middle of the street. "I'd rather walk!"

* * *

"God," Olivia groaned beneath her breath as she and Gregory left the conference room. "That wasn't a meeting - it was an _interrogation_."

He nodded as they walked down the hall, scrolling through his cell phone. "At least the audit is over. We'll get the coverage."

"After that travesty Jonas put us through, we had better," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "God, I need coffee."

Gregory nodded to her secretary as he followed her into her office and closed the door behind them. "You look exhausted," he pointed out, sitting in the club chair as she poured a cup of coffee and drank it black. "Are you alright?"

She frowned as she sat across from him. "No, I'm not." She felt his eyes on her and she looked up, explaining, "Louise and I had an argument this morning."

"Teenagers," he said simply. "No one warns you about how awful they can be when you are starting a family." She smiled indulgently as he continued, "But, eventually, they grow out of _it_."

"Yes. But," she replied, shaking her head as she leaned back in the armchair, "it was _more_ than that. She was furious with me…about Del."

"Del?"

"I don't know…exactly," she murmured into the china cup. "But…"

"But what?" he asked, watching as her expression glazed over in deep thought.

With a sigh, she looked back at him when he took her hand. "She said she knew I never loved Del." They were silent for a long moment before she wondered aloud, "How would she know that? And what would make her say it?"

"Perhaps," he said slowly, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb, "it's just grief. You said she still misses him?"

"Yes, she does. Perhaps it's for the best you're leaving today," she said softly, sitting up. "I should spend more time with her this weekend. The last few months haven't been easy on her."

Gregory watched her, the conflict cresting on her face. "Louise will be alright. She just needs time." She smiled gratefully as he squeezed her hand, drawing strength from it. "But, I should get going," he explained as he stood. "Sean's meeting me at the airfield."

In a heartbeat, she was on her feet, letting his arms wrap around her slender waist. "He's happy about going to New York with you?"

A boyish grin came to his face, causing his dark brown eyes to sparkle. "Yes, as a matter of fact. He told me so this morning when he came down with his suitcase." She sighed, content in his arms as she leaned against him. "Things have been very well between us lately."

"I'm so glad."

"This trip couldn't come at a better time," he continued softly, reaching up to brush her hair back and cup her face. She leaned into his touch, looking up at him with sapphire eyes. "I don't even remember the last time he and I spent a weekend alone together."

"You'll have a wonderful time," she insisted as he drew her in.

"Well, opening day at Yankee Stadium never disappoints." He leaned in and kissed her softly. "And, don't worry…things will be fine with you and Louise." She sighed and closed her eyes, nodding as if to convince herself. "I love you," he whispered, a small smile blossoming on her lips.

"I love you too," Olivia replied in a hushed sigh as a firm knock on the door interrupted them. With a sigh, she stepped away from him as he lowered his arms. "Come in," she called out.

The door opened and her secretary poked her head in. "Excuse me, but your daughter's school is on the phone. They said you aren't answering your mobile."

"Oh. Thank you," she said, reaching for the phone on her desk as the woman left again. She leaned on the edge, reaching for Gregory's hand when he moved to leave. _Wait_, she mouthed silently, waiting as her secretary connected the call. "Yes, this is Mrs. Douglas."

Gregory watched her frown before she said, "Not there? No, I saw her leave." Her eyes turned up to his, concern clouding the blue. "But, you know…she wasn't feeling well this morning, so maybe she changed her mind and came back after I left. I'll call home and check on her."

He waited as she ended the call and hung up. "Everything alright?"

She shook her head, dialing a number. "Louise isn't in class," she admitted as the line rang. "I knew she wasn't feeling well this morning." Their eyes met as she said, "She's probably at home in bed and- Hello, Theresa? Is Louise awake? Her school called and-"

He reached for her when she leaned back against the deck, her mouth an O of surprise. "What? Are you sure?" he heard her say, her fingers nervously dancing against her pearls. "No, I'm coming home."

"Is she ok?" He watched her slam the phone down and reach for her purse. "Olivia?"

"T-Theresa said she isn't there," she muttered, fumbling through her bag for her keys and nearly dropping it all. "She's not at school, but she's not at home either. Damnit, where could she be?"

He took her handbag, steadying her grip on it. "Maybe she went to a friend's house?"

"No, she doesn't have any friends," she said blandly, her mind racing.

"What about Bette's?"

"No, Bette would've called to say Louise was with her." She shook her head and reached for her bag, the tremor in her hands impossible to miss. "I need to go home."

He handed her the bag as he said, "Fine…but let me drive you."

* * *

"_Don't speak, I know what you're thinking_," Annie sang, glancing in her side mirror, "_and I don't need your reasons. Don't tell me 'cause it hurts_."

Her fingers drummed the steering wheel in time with the song on the radio as she eased up on the accelerator. The BMW's engine hummed as she watched the speedometer drop. "Wouldn't do to be pulled over for speeding," she murmured, glancing in the rearview mirror. "Not with this cargo."

Stretched out across the backseat and covered with a blanket was Louise. At quick glance, she appeared to be peacefully asleep, her lips parted. But on closer examination, her skin was pale and her breathing shallow as her eyes danced behind her closed lids.

"I know you won't understand why I'm doing this," Annie said aloud, lowering the volume on the radio. She shook her head and sighed, Interstate 5 stretching endless before her. "But, you didn't have the life I did. I don't know that anyone truly understands that…except for Cole. Daddy was there for you. It wasn't fair."

She leaned back in the tan leather seat and rested her elbow on the door's armrest. "I would come to visit for Christmas or summer vacations and I would feel like a complete outsider…a _stranger_."

A memory whispered from the depths of her soul, forgotten until this moment. The memory of a little girl with big blue eyes, tugging on her hand. _Come to my tea party, Annie! _Her hand trembled as she raised it to her lips, remembering the way Louise would jump on her bed and drag her across the hall to her bedroom. The little girl was fascinated with tea parties and she could sit on the floor for hours, holding court at a party to rival the one in Wonderland. And, she would indulge her younger sister, clinking teacups with her and munching on petit fours.

"But, you…you were always happy to see me," she whispered, remembering the way Louise would giggle when she would imitate Olivia's British accent. "You didn't care about my attitude or how anti-social I could be. You just wanted someone to play with." She shook her head as she looked back into the rearview mirror, watching her sister sleep. A beam of sunlight landed on her face, her skin glowing. "Maybe we could've been friends," she mused, changing lanes to pass a pickup truck hauling a horse trailer, "and done all those things that sisters on TV do…borrowed each other's clothes, gone on vacation together, told each other the honest truth and not been afraid of the consequences."

But, there was too much of Olivia in the girl. She was a mirror image of her mother and it was impossible to look at Louise without seeing the other woman. As she grew older, it was more than Annie could stomach. "Your bitch of a mother never would've allowed that though," she announced, malice creeping into her voice. "Olivia was content to pack me off at the end of the summer and send me back to California. What happens now is her fault. You see, you can't have everything, Lulu. And your mother needs to learn that."

Reaching for the dial, she turned the radio volume up. As she did, her eyes fell on the dashboard's clock. With a smirk, she turned back to the road and gripped the steering wheel. "Bobby's already delivered our little gift."

* * *

Gregory glanced at Olivia as they turned onto Ocean Avenue, silence cocooning the car. She gazed quietly at her lap, anxiously twisting the diamond on her left hand's ring finger. He reached out and covered her hand, squeezing gently as he said, "You said she was upset this morning."

"Y- Yes," she replied softly, a chill dripping down her spine. "Lou was in the kitchen when I came down and she looked sick. I asked if she was alright and that's when everything exploded."

"Then she left for school?" She nodded. "Sean ran away once," he explained quietly after a few moments. "It was a few weeks after Alex died. Casey and I found him at the cemetery. He was just sitting on the grass, gazing at her headstone."

With a sigh, she shook her head and finally turned to look at him. "But, Del was cremated. Bette took the ashes to Texas and scattered them on their parent's ranch." She looked blindly up at her house as he turned into the driveway. "There's no way Louise has gone to Houston."

He got out of the car, looking over the roof. "Let's call the airlines and make sure. Where has she spent a lot of her time recently?"

"Home, school, the library, her music teacher's," she said, walking up to the house. She pushed open the wrought iron gate that opened onto the small courtyard that led to the front door. "Nowhere else. She's always been a shy girl and all the attention with Del's murder has-"

He frowned when she stopped abruptly, her purse dropping to the stone path. "Olivia, what's wrong?" He looked past her to the front door. Sitting on the doorstep was a large brown paper bag, its flap folded over to seal it shut. He heard her inhale sharply as he read the writing on the front of the bag: _February 17, 1974_.

Unease churned in Olivia's stomach as she gazed at the date, the black magic marker ink standing out harshly against the brown paper. Her flesh crawled, her vision blurring as she struggled to swallow against the rising panic. "No," she whispered, the one syllable drawn out and segueing to a devastated moan. His eyes moved between her and the bag, watching as she stepped closer to it. Slowly, her hand crept out, taking the bag and pushing it open.

She felt the sunlight on her and she narrowed her eyes, reluctantly reaching into the darkness. Her breath caught as her fingers grazed something soft. Fabric, she realized as she clenched her hand around it and pulled it free. The patch on the sweater was unmistakable and she recalled the way Louise grimaced the first time she saw it.

"_Well," the teenage girl said, shrugging into the navy cardigan that completed her school uniform, "at least blue is a color I like."_

Still, her fingers fought with the material, not believing until she found the tag. _L.E.D._ Her fingertips grazed the initials Theresa painstakingly stitched into every piece of her daughter's school uniforms. Vaguely, she registered the fog clouding her mind had cleared and she heard Gregory say her name.

He watched her turn to him, clutching a sweater to her chest. Her face was pale, her lips quivering as her eyes shone with fear. "I did this," he heard her murmur as the wind howled ominously through the courtyard.

* * *

_A/N: Annie is road tripping to No Doubt's "Don't Speak" (written by Eric Stefani and Gwen Stefani)._


	14. Dies Irae

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Fourteen: "Dies Irae"

Gregory looked up as a team of uniformed police officers trooped into Olivia's living room and scattered quickly. A controlled frenzy was quickly seeping through every room, police and crime scene investigators tearing through the house.

Louise had been missing for over four hours.

He turned to the armchair where Olivia was sitting, frozen into submission as Ricardo questioned her. "You said Louise was upset. Do you know why, Mrs. Douglas?" the detective asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

Several moments went before she finally blinked and nodded slowly. "Del…" she whispered as a shudder racked her body. Ricardo nodded encouragingly and waited, watching carefully as her hands fluttered in her lap. "She…misses him."

"I see. She wasn't upset because someone was threatening her or making her uncomfortable?" Olivia shook her head and he watched her for a long moment before he continued with his questioning. "So, you received a call from Louise's school and they said she wasn't there. You and Gregory arrive here and you find the bag with her school sweater at the front door." He glanced up at Gregory before he turned back to Olivia, her eyes dancing nervously as he asked, "What does it mean?"

"Wh-what does what mean?" she stammered, her stomach clenching as she correctly anticipated his response.

"The date: February 17, 1974." Ricardo's eyes narrowed as Olivia flinched and he glanced up to Gregory. But the lawyer was focused on the woman before them and he reached out to rest his hand on her shoulder. A loose thought whispered from the back of his mind and he shook his head, saving it for later. "Mrs. Douglas, what does the date mean?"

"Nothing," she gasped. "It was-"

"Did Louise know what it meant?"

"_No_!" Olivia said sharply as the color flushed back into her face at an alarming rate. "She didn't know anything about it!"

"Who did then?"

She looked away, a strangely distant look washing out the panic that existed only a moment ago. Gregory felt her tremble and he squeezed her shoulder gently. "It was," she finally stammered, her lips quivering, "a date that was significant to Del and myself." She turned to Ricardo, watching as he digested that information. "Our children couldn't have known about it. No one could have."

The detective nodded slowly, finally making eye contact with Gregory. They both heard her hesitation. With a quiet sigh, Ricardo stood and flipped his notebook closed. "My team will finish searching the house and the grounds. However, we are going to try and keep this quiet so that-"

"_Where's my mother?"_

They turned to the urgent question as Thomas skidded into the room. He was breathing heavily, his suit coat and waist coat flapping open as he ran a nervous hand through his dark hair. "Mom, what's going on?" he asked, coming closer.

Olivia stood slowly, her throat working as she watched her son. "Oh, Thomas," she sighed, her voice catching as he stood before her.

"I don't understand," he whispered as she stepped into his embrace and wrapped her arms around him. "What's going on?"

Gregory turned away, gesturing Ricardo close. "How does Louise's kidnapping play into Del's murder investigation?" He watched the detective make eye contact with Officer Paula Stevens and he cleared his throat, waiting. "Detective?"

"I'm confident," the detective said gravely, panic dancing in Paula's eyes, "that today's events are in _no_ way related to Del's murder."

He watched the younger man for a long moment before he said softly, "You know who killed Del."

"I can't comment on an ongoing investigation," Ricardo said in a hurry as Paula looked away, sadness wrinkling her face. "What matters now is that the kidnappers reach out with their demands."

"You mean a ransom call," Thomas interrupted as he turned around, his arm around Olivia's shoulders.

"Yes. Son, Officer Stevens needs to speak with you about the last time you saw your sister."

Olivia nodded, gesturing her son in the officer's direction. "Go on, Darling." She watched her son follow the police officer onto the patio and sit the shade of palm frond. With a shaky sigh, she turned to Gregory and leaned into the nook of his shoulder. As his arm went around her, she asked, "What did you say to Detective Torres?"

He shook his head, murmuring into her hair, "It's not important."

She looked up, her eyes glazed over even as she sighed apologetically. "Oh…You missed your flight to New York, didn't you?"

He kissed her forehead. "It doesn't matter."

She closed her eyes as he hugged her closer. "I want her back," she whispered, both of his arms snugly around her. "Where can she be?"

"We'll find her," he whispered as she turned her face into his chest, choking back a sob. From across the living room, Ricardo watched them carefully, jotting down a note in his pad.

* * *

Louise turned her head, struggling to get a sense of direction. A scarf was tied snugly over her eyes, the wool hot and itchy. A thick piece of rope knotted her wrists behind her back, tying them to the chair she sat in. Her body trembled, the thin blouse doing little to comfort her. Fine goose bumps rose on her bare legs and she longed to pull them up to her chest, hugging herself warm.

_How much time had gone by? Hours? _She gulped nervously as a more horrific thought entered her mind. _Days? _She lowered her head, struggling against the fuzzy haze to remember what happened. Arguing with her mother…yelling at Sean…walking to school. Then, nothing. She shuddered, scared that chunks of her memory were missing.

_She_ was missing.

Her head flew up at the sound of a door opening and she turned to it. Murky darkness surrounded her and she shivered her, feeling extremely vulnerable. Despite her shivering, she began to sweat, realizing that someone was watching her right now and there was nothing she could do. Panic overwhelmed her and tears stung her eyes as a sob rose in her throat.

"_She's awake."_

The girl stiffened, floorboards creaking as someone walked across them, nearer to her. She involuntarily squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face into her shoulder, trying to hide herself as best she could. Somewhere, out in the terrifying darkness that she couldn't see, someone laughed. It was a deep laugh, harsh and grating. _"How cute," _she heard a man say and her ears perked, struggling to identify it. _"She's bashful." _

"_Yeah. Adorable." _

A woman's voice and, unlike the man's voice, a familiar one at that.

Louise slowly raised her head and turned it in the direction of the voices. She could feel their eyes on her and a rivulet of sweat ran down her neck. Her breath ran shallow when she heard the woman speaking again. _"She was knocked out the whole way. I didn't even need to give her the second injection."_

"_Excellent."_

His words were tinted with a French accent, the last syllable disappearing into a higher inflection. But the woman was as American-sounding as her father.

"_When do we make the call?" _the woman asked.

Several beats of silence went by before he responded, _"Later. When Olivia will be ready to listen."_

The young girl froze at the sound of her mother's name, another sob rising in her throat. She hung her head as the woman's chuckle surrounded her, the weight of a hand on her shoulder. _"Aww, don't cry, Lulu. As long as Olivia gives us the jewels, we'll- OW!"_

Louise recoiled at the sound of feet scuffling away from her. _"Shut up," _the man hissed as something crashed in the room. _"The less she knows, the better."_

"_What does it matter? When she gets home, she'll find out what she was traded for. There's no way Olivia won't-"_

A door slammed shut, their voices suddenly muffled as they stepped into another room. Alone again, she strained against the binding around her wrists. A new level of panic raced through her veins, her heart thundering in her chest. Struggling and tugging…was it just her imagination or was the rope around her right wrist looser than the left one? The rope burned into her flesh and she winced, fervently working on the binds.

Lulu.

No one but family _ever_ called her Lulu. Her parents, her brother, her aunt…and her sister.

Annie.

* * *

Shadows of the night filled the hall as Olivia wandered down it, lost and bereft. Her heels clicked on the floor, echoing in the silence and she shivered. With a sigh, she stepped into her study, silver moonlight illuminating the room. The crystal glasses glowed as she reached for one and then the neck of the decanter. Her hand trembled, the bottle grinding against the rim as the vodka splashed into it.

"_Do you really think that's the best idea?"_

She closed her eyes against Gregory's question as she pushed the bottle away and raised the glass to her lips. "Probably not," she whispered in reply, keeping her back to him. The vodka was smooth down her throat as she hugged the glass to her chest. She heard him step closer, his breathing filling the silence. "It's been almost fourteen hours. When will they call?"

"When they think their silence has gotten the best of you." He took another step towards her as he tucked his hands into his pockets. "When they think you've driven yourself mad by wondering, 'Why now? Why after all these years?'"

She stiffened and opened her eyes slowly. The crystal was cool in her palm as she raised it to her lips, sipping deeply. Slowly, she turned to him, her gaze sweeping over him like a tidal wave. The shadows cloaked the study, empty except for the two of them. The police in the living room and kitchen suddenly seemed very far away as their eyes met. "What happened on February 17, 1974?" she heard him ask.

He watched her step back, wrapping herself in a shadow. She leaned against the bookcase, one of the shelves angrily jutting into her spine. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she watched him fold his arms against his chest, waiting. "What does something that happened twenty-three years ago have to do with Louise being taken today?" he asked quietly, but firmly.

For months, she tried to avoid this moment. She had managed to sidestep all his questions about Del, the jewels, the truth. Now, the tightly wound secret was imploding before her eyes and all she could do was stand to the side, a bystander as it happened. "I should never have come back to Sunset Beach," she finally murmured, pinching the bridge of her nose. "None of this ever would have happened." He watched as she gulped the vodka and set the now-empty glass on the bar. "I stayed away for twenty-three years," she said. "I could've stayed away for another twenty-three. I _should_ have."

"But you came back," he said and she looked up. "You and Del came _back_." He sighed, leaning against the arm of the sofa. "What happened in 1974?"

"Del and I were married on February 20, 1974," she said quietly, turning to gaze out the window. The silver moonlight stained her face with a pale glow, giving her an unhealthy pallor. With a shudder, she continued, "Three days after we left Sunset Beach."

"February 17th."

She nodded, hugging her arms to her chest. Her chest ached as she closed her eyes, remembering. "It was a Sunday. Elaine Stevens gave birth to a baby early that morning."

Behind her, Gregory nodded slowly, vaguely recalling the gossip from that time. "But the baby didn't live."

"No." Her arms throbbed with the weight of a newborn baby and she flinched as its phantom wail consumed her. "He did."

A chill went through Gregory, his breathing shallow. "What are you saying?"

She lowered her head as his eyes burned through her. "Del kidnapped Elaine's baby," she said softly, barely a whisper in the night. "She was told her baby died, but he _lived_."

With the clarity of a supernova, Gregory saw the errant pieces of the mystery come together. A kidnapping for a kidnapping. The Babylonian code of justice was alive, well and thriving in Sunset Beach. "How do you know this?" he asked. Here, she shook her head and he reached out, grasping her arm and spinning her towards him. "Olivia, answer me. _How_ do you know this?"

She shook her head, panic rising within her as his hand tightened. "I can't-"

"You can, Olivia! You _can_! Tell me! How did you know that Del kidnapped that child?"

"Gregory, please," she whimpered as he gripped her shoulders.

"Do you want to see your daughter again? Do you!" She sobbed, tears filling her eyes as he cupped her face, gazing down at her. Secrets had lived for too long. This had to end tonight. "Trust me!" he begged. "Please, trust me! Tell me how you know! Tell me!"

"Because I helped him!" she shrieked, her tortured voice ringing in the silence like church bells on Easter morning. He reeled back, his hands falling from her as her hands flew to her mouth. Her eyes widened as the decades old secret was finally spoken aloud. "I…_helped_ him," she repeated in a broken whisper, watching as his face turned.

"You…wait, what?" he asked, his mind racing.

Olivia hung her head, shame radiating from her. She gasped as her head spun and she stumbled forward, gripping the wingback armchair for support. Bile rose in her throat, burning as she coughed. "Del paid me $10,000 to help him kidnap Elaine's son."

"Why?" he asked, desperate to understand. "Why would you do something that _stupid_?"

She flinched and collapsed into the arm chair, her legs giving way beneath her. "I needed the money," she admitted, slowly turning up her eyes to look at him. He was riveted to her, listening. Disgust swelled within her as she continued, "I was poor. You never would have noticed me without the money."

His head went back, stung. _"What?"_

"I- I was in love with you from the first moment I saw you," she confessed, her voice flat and devoid of life. It was someone else's story she was telling, words conjured up a novelist. "But, I was poor. I could only get a job as a lowly nurse's assistant, which was _only_ one step up from an orderly. I lived in a run-down apartment that I could barely afford. There was never any money left at the end of the month. There was no way you _ever_ would've looked twice at me. I just couldn't compete with all those wealthy college girls who just _flocked_ to you."

He came around to stand before her, his shadow falling over her. "Do you know what I remember?" he asked softly, his arms folded against his chest. "I remember seeing you at parties and thinking you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen in my life, but _you_ wouldn't give me the time of day."

"Of course I wouldn't! I wasn't going to be your cheap fling from the wrong side of the tracks before you turned around and married some Beverly Hills socialite!"

Gregory's face fell and he sighed. "You really thought that of me? That I was that shallow?" She watched him start to turn away before he looked back at her, frowning sadly. "I knew you were poor and that _never_ mattered to me."

She closed her eyes, swallowing her regret. "I suppose that doesn't matter anymore, does it?"

He sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck. The silence stretched between them, seemingly interminable before he finally asked, "What went wrong?" She looked up, confused as he continued, "Or was it always part of Del's plan that the two of you would leave town?"

She shook her head. "No. D- Del paid Elaine's doctor to forge the baby's death certificate. Later, after it was over, Del came to see me. He told me that the doctor was already regretting what he'd done. He told me we needed to leave before we were both arrested." He watched her curl into the corner of the armchair, her voice listless. "Del said I was an accessory and that I could go to jail. So, we ran away to Puerto Vallarta. Del said there was no way the Mexican government would deport a British citizen to the United States."

With a sad chuckle, she sat forward and hung her head in her hands. The frenzy of those days came back to her, the terrified panic that consumed her. It was the first time she had cause to drink herself to sleep. "It was his idea to get married," she whispered, her fingertips pressed to her temple. "If we were married, we couldn't testify against each other." She looked up slowly, suddenly exhausted. "So, we were married on February 20th. Del used the marriage to get British citizenship and we stayed away from the United States for nearly a quarter of a century."

"Then, why come back at all?" he asked softly, struggling to come to terms with the bombshell Olivia laid at his feet.

She shrugged, wiping her eyes as she sat back. "Del wanted the money the resort project would bring."

"Why did _you_ come back?"

With a sigh, she admitted, "So many years had gone by. Can I still be arrested for something that happened in 1974?"

He shook his head. "The statute of limitations on kidnapping expired a long time ago."

She gripped the armchair and stood, trembling. "The legal limit expired, but I'm still being punished. Louise was taken because of what we did! My daughter…is _suffering_ God-knows-_what_ horrors because of what _I_ did!"

"Who took her?"

She shrugged, truly lost. "I- I don't know. No one knows what we did-"

"The doctor?"

She flinched, ice dripping in her stomach. "You already know what happened to him." She allowed him a brief moment of perplexed silence before she explained, "Bette's second husband killed himself a few months after the kidnapping. Jeffrey drank himself into a stupor and drove his car into the Pacific."

He was quiet for a moment as he absorbed that information. "Del didn't do this on his own. What would he have to gain by kidnapping Elaine's baby?" She turned away, hugging herself as he asked, "Who was he working for?"

"The baby's grandmother, Julianna Deschanel." She looked over her shoulder when he said nothing and explained, "AJ was the baby's father."

"The Deschanel jewels," he said simply and she nodded, sniffling. The sad story of the last few months, indeed the last twenty-three years, finally came full circle. "This needs to come out."

"No, Gregory! I can't tell anyone this! Do you know what Thomas and Louise would think of me if they found out?" She choked back a sob as a tear rolled down her cheek. "If they knew what I did? They would _hate_ me."

He watched her turn away, wiping her face dry as she exhaled deeply. "I'll call my investigator," he said quietly after a long moment, walking past her. "We'll see what he can dig up on AJ Deschanel's son."

She stood unsteadily, gripping the back of the chair. "Gregory, wai-"

He looked over his shoulder, his face unreadable. "I think you've said enough for one night." He watched her nod slowly, her expression descending into depressed hysteria. She turned to the bar, reaching for the vodka when he said quietly, "You don't need that."

She lowered her head, silent sobs shaking her body as she heard him leave the room.


	15. Pieces

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Fifteen: "Pieces"

Thomas gazed blankly out at the horizon, the sky lightening as dawn approached. A gust of wind blew across the patio, the palm frond rustling. His fingers twitched and he flexed them, balling them slowly into a fist. He longed to punch someone.

In the throat.

Hard.

From behind him, he heard one of the French doors open and he spun around. "Oh," he said lamely, watching Caitlin and Sean come down the stone steps. "I thought you were the police."

"No, sorry. I had Ian drop us off," Caitlin sighed, holding out a small package wrapped in paper. "Here this is for you. We thought you might be hungry."

He shook his head and tossed it aside. "No, I can't eat."

"Come on, man…that's a taylor ham, egg and cheese sandwich," Sean said, sharing the lounge chair next to Thomas with his sister. "The breakfast of champions."

"Maybe later."

The siblings glanced at one and other, Caitlin frowning. "Neither of us has been to sleep," she said softly, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her sweatshirt. "So, we thought we'd be helpful and bring over coffee and doughnuts over for the police. Daddy said they were still here."

"Just what they need, right?" Sean chuckled, hoping for a response from Thomas. But, the young man just sighed and turned back to the horizon, shrugging his shoulders. "Listen," he began, clearing his throat nervously, "you have to know: I wish I hadn't let Louise out of my car. I wish I had driven her to school."

"Sean, it's not your fault," Thomas replied softly, rubbing his eyes. "The police said this was well-planned." He turned back to them, icy pain glittering in his blue eyes. "They, whoever _they_ are, were going to take Louise no matter what. It was only a matter of time."

But, the other man shook his head, ignoring the comforting squeeze from his sister. "I should've been able to talk her back into the car. But, she was so upset…"

Here, Thomas sat up and turned to them. "What was Lou upset about? Mom told the police it was grief about Dad, but…" He shook his head, trying to make sense of the scattered thoughts rolling around in his mind. "It doesn't make sense."

"She-" he started, glancing nervously between his sister and Thomas, "she was upset with your mother."

"Mom? Why?" He glanced up at the house, every window illuminated from within. "She didn't tell me that." He and Caitlin watched as Sean looked down and leaned forward on his knees. "What did my sister tell you?"

"Sean?" Caitlin asked softly when her brother said nothing and continued to gaze intently at the ground. "What do you know?"

"Nothing," he said insistently, his voice a mere squeak as he looked up. "At least, I don't think…no," he decided, shaking his head after a moment. "No, there's no way it could have anything to do with-"

"Her _kidnapping_, Sean. My sister was kidnapped." Thomas' voice cracked and he looked away, inhaling sharply. "Please tell me what you know," he said softly.

"It's n- nothing," he laughed nervously, a knot of anxiety materializing in his gut. But, Caitlin and Thomas said nothing, only watching him intently in reply. "Guys…"

"What did Louise tell you?" Caitlin asked, her question infused with the authority of an older sister.

He sighed deeply and leaned back, sitting as far away from them as possible. "Louise…she called me early yesterday morning. She asked for a ride to school. I pass St. Agnes' anyway, so I said it was no problem." His sister and Thomas nodded encouragingly, saying nothing. "But, when I picked her up, she was upset. She'd just had a fight with Olivia."

Thomas leaned forward, resisting the urge to grab his friend and shake the truth from him. Instead, he nodded again and balled his hands into fists. "She said she wanted to hurt her mother," he heard Sean say and he looked up, his eyebrows jumping in surprise.

Sean saw the surprise on his friend's face and he said quickly, "She found something out about Olivia and it- it upset her."

"What the hell did my mother do?" Thomas exploded, jumping up.

The siblings watched him turn away, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Caitlin nodded when her brother turned to her, questioning. "Look," Sean sighed, the words rising slowly in his throat, "I don't know how Louise found out, but our parents…your mom and my dad…they're- well-"

Caitlin paled, watching her younger brother struggle with the truth. Her eyes flew up to Thomas, who turned around slowly, an unreadable expression on his face. "What?" she heard him say, his shadow looming over them in the pale morning light.

"Your mom is-"

"Lulu knew?" Thomas murmured, his voice strained.

Caitlin glanced between the two men and patted the seat Thomas vacated. "I think," she began slowly, nodding to him as she took her brother's hand, "this is something we all know."

Sean whirled on his sister. "You knew too?"

She shivered under the weight of two pairs of eyes and she jutted her chin defiantly. "Yes," she admitted, "I did. I figured it out two days and spoke with Daddy. He didn't deny it."

"I thought no one was supposed to know," Thomas sighed, collapsing down to the lounge cushion.

"When did you find out?" Sean watched Thomas and his sister exchange a long glance before he turned back.

"I found out a few weeks ago," he answered, anticipating Sean's next question. He shrugged and leaned forward. "My mother doesn't know that I know."

"God," Sean sighed after several moments of silence. "How long have they been…_dating_?"

"I don't think _dating_ is a word I'd use to describe Daddy and Olivia," Caitlin muttered, leaning against the back of the lounge chair. She bit back a chuckle as both boys looked uncomfortable, though she couldn't help but roll her eyes. "So," she began, getting the conversation back on track, "Louise found out?"

Her brother nodded. "Yeah. She was upset." He was quiet for a moment, recalling his last conversation with the girl. "It bothered her that Olivia was moving on so soon."

Thomas nodded. "Lulu's too young to realize our parent's marriage was hardly perfect. They didn't love each other," he concluded softly, glancing back up at the house for a quick moment. "But, I should've realized. Louise took our father's death very hard…harder than all of us."

"Thomas, there was nothing you could've done," Caitlin said after a moment and he stood abruptly, turning back to the ocean.

"I should've known she _never_ would've taken this easily. I should've been the one to tell her. I could've explained it-"

Caitlin stood and put her hand on his shoulder, getting him to look her in the eyes. "Thomas, she's a fourteen-year-old girl. Her father was murdered and her mother is sleeping with his best friend." She shook her head sadly and looked up at him. "Trust me. There's _nothing_ you could've said to make this easier for her."

He shook his head, gazing forlornly at the still water of the pool. "I'm her brother. I'm supposed to protect her."

"It's not your fault either," she gasped, coming around to face him. "Thomas, there's nothing you could've done to stop this."

He sighed, a lump welling in his throat. "Then, why do I feel like a failure?"

She frowned, reaching out tentatively to wrap her arms around the young man. "Because she's your baby sister and you love her," she whispered in his ear as he gripped her in return, a shudder going through him.

* * *

Gregory knocked softly on the bedroom door, receiving only silence in reply. Slowly, he opened the door and stepped into the room, blinking against the pale sunshine. It surprised him that in the rising daylight, Olivia's bedroom looked _very_ different. He closed the door behind him, glancing around the quiet room of ice blue and white. He hadn't seen her since the late-night confession in her study. Baci was curled up at the foot of the bed, her red coat glowing.

_Olivia has to be in here_, he thought as a photo across the room caught his eye. The area rug swallowed his steps as he walked to the frame, looking down at a picture of Olivia and her children. Three pairs of blue eyes gazed up at him, their smiles timeless behind the glass.

"_That was in the Cotswolds," _a dull voice said from behind him and he stiffened, but didn't turn. In the photo, Thomas was hugging his mother from behind, kissing her cheek. Louise was curled up in Olivia's lap, clutching a stuffed bunny as she beamed at the camera. _"We were on holiday with my father."_

He turned slowly, flinching when he saw Olivia. Her face was pale and her eyes puffy, testaments to the agony she was living. She stood in the doorway of the bathroom, breathing heavily. "Lulu was three on that visit." She looked away, emotion rising in her throat as tears welled in her eyes. "After that photo was taken, sh- she chased a lamb through a meadow and ended up tripping over a rock."

Slowly, she raised her hand, touching her own chin and she said, "She split her chin open and there was blood everywhere. Thomas, my poor Thomas…" she sighed sadly, remembering the horrified panic in her seven-year-old son's eyes. "He thought she was broken and-"

He watched her turn away and disappear into the bathroom. A moment later, he heard the toilet seat hit the tank, preceding a moan. He followed, crouching behind her to gather her long hair back. With his free hand, he rubbed her back as she vomited, coughing and gagging violently.

She finally collapsed against the bowl, spent as she struggled to catch her breath. She heard the toilet flush and a moment later, she felt Gregory pull her into his arms, cradling her like an infant as he sat back. Dizzy, she watched him lean up, grabbing the damp hand towel she left on the counter when she heard him arrive. "Close your eyes," he said softly, pressing the cloth to her cheeks and forehead. "Rest."

His chest was warm and she turned into it, ignoring the battle waging in her stomach. She was at her wits end, her nerves fraying into disarray. His heart pounded resoundingly in his chest and she did as he suggested, succumbing to the rhythmic calm.

He felt her shiver, a raking shudder that consumed her whole body. She moaned, riding a wave, but her eyes stayed shut. She felt his hand on her shoulder, rubbing it gently and eventually trailed the length of her arm. His fingers threaded through hers, hers thin and chilled. Her engagement and wedding rings spun, suddenly loose on her fourth finger. "Why did you stay married to Del?" he asked quietly, his voice bouncing off the tile.

"The children," she murmured, envious of the warmth of his palm. "Del knew I would never leave them and he made it clear I could never leave _with_ them. If I tried, he swore he would tell the police I was the one who kidnapped Elaine's baby. He needed us all under his thumb, controlling everything." She sighed, opening her eyes slightly to peer up at him. "Thomas and Louise are the only things I've ever done right with my life. I'd rather _die_ than be separated from them."

He frowned, watching as a sickly green tint overtook her complexion. "And, you can't possibly think anything of me that I haven't already thought of _myself_," she continued in a whisper, watching his grim expression. "I know who I am and what I've done. I've had to live with myself. I spent the first four years of my marriage trying to drink myself to death. Living recklessly and praying that each night would be my last. _Anything_ to stop remembering the way that baby cried in the hospital nursery or the way Elaine went to pieces when I told her the baby was dead. I just wanted…to _die_."

With a shiver, he held her closer and shared her gaze. "What stopped you?"

"Thomas." The name quivered in the silence and she looked back at him with sad eyes, resigned to a fate that she had tried so desperately to fend off. "I found out I was pregnant."

He watched her lean up, his arms aching the loss of her as she moved to sit across from him. She held her hand to her head, leaning back against the wall. "We were in Zurich and in that moment," he heard her trail off, watching as a glazed expression washed over her face, "I so _desperately_ wanted to live to have my baby, even though I didn't deserve him."

She drew her knees up to her chest and lowered her head to rest on them. "I remember thinking," she said, her voice full of anguish, "that it would be justice for someone to take him. Just like I had done to Elaine."

"Just like what's happened _now_."

Olivia raised her head slowly, her eyes dull and vacant. "Yes," she said simply. "I should've known my sins were never going to let me be. No matter how hard I tried." She gripped the edge of the counter and pulled herself up, her knees weak. She leaned against the sink, brushing her teeth to get rid of the bitter taste of vomit in her mouth. Behind her, he stood, watching her in the mirror's reflection. "I don't think anyone is going to call," she confessed, her throat aching even as she spoke. "This is pay back for what I did to Elaine and her son."

He shook his head, following her out of the bathroom. "My investigator tracked down Julianna Deschanel. She's still alive, but apparently, something of a recluse." She glanced over her shoulder, waiting. "She lives in a chateau a few miles outside of Paris."

"But the kidnapping was _her_ idea."

"Yes," he nodded, coming closer to her, "it was. Who else knew? AJ? Maybe he wanted to avoid a messy custody dispute. And, what about the child? He's a grown man by now. What does he know?"

She shook her head, unable to think clearly. "But, what do they want with Louise?" She sank down to the foot of her bed, hunched over like a broken woman. Tentatively, Baci inched across the bed and nudged Olivia's hand with her nose. She sat up, letting the dog crawl into her lap.

He crouched down before her, taking her hand. "It's you, they want. Louise is just their way of getting to you."

"But, why? They have to know I would never say anything about the kidnapping," she sighed and Gregory froze, seeing the way her diamond engagement ring winked in the rising sunlight. "Not after all these-"

"The jewels," he said simply, looking up. She flinched, an icy chill sweeping over her. "Olivia, you've got the Deschanel jewels…and thanks to the publicity surrounding Del's murder, everyone knows it." She scooped the puppy into her arms as she stood slowly. "People want to know _why_. That French curator said he couldn't find a record of their sale. It doesn't make sense why Del owned them."

"The jewels?" she gasped as horrified understanding swept over her like a tidal wave.

He took hold of her shoulders, staring her evenly in the eyes. "Olivia, listen to me. Tell Torres you're going to release Louise's photo to the media with a reward." She nodded, hanging on his every word as he continued, "You need to draw them out."

"Are- are you sure?" He watched hope flicker in her eyes, her blue irises darkening. She exhaled deeply as he nodded, her stomach in knots as she whispered, "Alright. I trust you." She felt his fingers kneading her shoulders and she leaned into him slowly, the dog sandwiched between them. His arms enveloped her, holding her close as she shuddered.

* * *

Louise jerked awake from a dreamless sleep, disoriented. Her head swam and she struggled to find her bearings, still blindfolded. She arched her back as far as the rope would allow as her stomach growled angrily. _How long has it been?_

With a deep breath, she sat still and listened intently. The sound of birds, chirping merrily in the freedom of the outside. She turned her head to the sound of distant murmuring, separated from her by a closed door. Annie was on the other side of that door. She frowned, too exhausted to cry any more. Every limb ached and her wrists burned as she flexed them, testing the binds. She had worked on trying to loosen them for what felt like hours until she had fallen into a tortured sleep.

She strained against them now, ignoring the way the rope cut into her flesh. She had to get out of here, wherever _here_ was. With a deep sigh, she bit the corner of her lip, pulling and twisting her arms. _The Douglas women aren't quitters_, she recalled her father saying the one time she complained about a difficult piece by Mozart. She nodded, feeling her mother's kiss on her forehead and her hands cupping her face. _My brave Lulu_, her mother sighed, hugging her close after she climbed down from a particularly tall tree in Ireland.

In the next room, someone laughed and she froze, turning to the sound. She shook her head, ignoring the chill of recognition that swept through her. Grimacing with an anger that bordered on fear coursing through her, she jerked her arms hard. The rope around her right wrist slipped away and she pulled it away in order to reach around, loosening her left wrist. Suddenly free, she flexed her arms and reached for the blindfold, slowly lowering it.

The white sunlight hurt her eyes and she squinted against it, her pupils adjusting from the darkness. As her vision came into focus, she glanced around and frowned. They were in the mountains, she suspected, judging from the rustic décor of the bedroom. She left the scarf around her neck as she bent down, untying the rope from around her ankles. As she did, she noticed the rope burns on her wrists, angry red cuts that wept blood.

She swallowed a sob as she stood slowly, taking a tentative steps towards the door. Her legs stung with pins and needles as the circulation started flowing through them again. She closed her eyes and put her ear to the door, listening. She heard Annie, chatting eagerly over the hum of the television. Then, heavy footsteps as someone paced the length of the room, passing dangerously near the room she was in. Instinctively, she backed away, bumping into a chest of drawers as she did. She gasped as the corner stabbed into her shoulder, the sound hanging in the silence.

Her hand clamped over her mouth as her eyes flew to the door. Her other hand went to her chest, covering her thundering heart, which surely dominated the silence. But, outside the door, life went on, footsteps and conversation unending. Quietly, she crept back across the room, her blood-stained fingers skimming the wood frame of the window. The sunlight was warm on her face and she held her breath, turning the lock. She licked her dry lips, her tongue peeking out as she gripped the window, pulling up.

But the window was unyielding and refused to budge. "No," she murmured, jamming her palms beneath the window frame and forcing it up. "Come on…open, open, _open_!" She was so focused on wrenching the window up that she didn't hear the door open behind her. Grunting, she pushed on the window, the veins in her neck straining as the cuts on her wrists howled in pain.

"_What are you doing, Louise?"_

The girl spun around, her hand flying to her throat. Annie sighed and shook her head, recognizing the gesture as purely Olivia. "You shouldn't have done that," she sighed, watching the young girl's eyes fill with panic as she inched away. "You shouldn't have done that at _all_."

Louise's foot brushed against the chair she had been tied to and she lunged for it. She gripped the wooden chair and hurled it into her older sister's abdomen. Annie doubled over, swearing as the teenage girl ran past her.

Her head spun, her heart pounding in her chest as she ran into the living room. Windows, flooding the room with sunlight and a door that stood on the other side. She dashed towards it, her arm outstretched to the knob when something grabbed her from behind. Or, _someone_, she realized as she was wrenched around and thrown against the door. The knob crashed into the small of her back and she winced, the breath knocked from her body. A strange man towered over her, his dark eyes glaring as he grabbed her head and slammed it into the door jamb.

Cole watched as the young girl's eyes rolled back and she slid down the wall, collapsing on the floor in a sickening heap. Behind him, Annie staggered out from the bedroom, her eyes wild. "Did you get her?"

"She's here," he said, staring down at the unconscious teenager.

She limped over to him, clutching her side. "Oh my God…what did you do that for?" He turned to her slowly, his eyes dark. A strange feeling twisted in her stomach and she instinctively stepped back. "Why?"

"She was going to leave," he said simply, his voice cold. "That can't happen."

* * *

Paula Stevens watched Olivia grip the banister as she came down the stairs, Baci scampering after her. The woman appeared spent, clinging to the fragile tapestry of togetherness. But, she was fraying and unable to do anything more than a poor job of covering it. She was a wreck and everyone knew it.

"Mrs. Douglas?" she asked softly, meeting the grief-stricken woman at the last step. "May I ask you a question?"

Olivia's blue eyes flickered as she exhaled deeply. "I already told Detective Torres everything," she said, her voice flat and exhausted.

"Everything?" the younger woman countered and she watched as Olivia froze. "I need to know about the date."

"I already told-," she stuttered, watching as Paula's eyes clouded with pain.

"Mrs. Douglas, _please_! I need to know the _truth_. I need to understand." She faltered, hanging her head briefly. When she looked up, Olivia saw tears glittering in the woman's dark eyes and she swallowed hard. "My- my mother has confessed to killing your husband." She paused as Olivia gasped audibly, her hand flying to her throat in shock. "But, she won't say why. And that date…"

Olivia's head spun as bile rose in her throat, making it difficult to swallow. "I don't know if you remember, but my mother gave birth on that day and my little brother…well, he didn't live." The police officer shook her head as her hands nervously flittered through the air. "Somehow, those deaths are related…my brother's and your husband's. The pieces are all there, but I just don't understand how they fit together with each other or your daughter's kidnapping."

Only one thing could've roused Olivia from her shock-induced numbness.

At that moment, the telephone rang.


	16. Fools & Angels

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Sixteen: "Fools & Angels"

_For fools rush in where angels fear to tread. _- Alexander Pope

Ricardo led Olivia into the living room as a deathly hush fell over the gathering. Her eyes danced nervously, her hands trembling as she heard the detective say, "Keep them on the phone as long as possible. Tell them you want to speak with Louise. You need proof of life." He watched Paula leave and close the front door quietly as he slipped a pair of headphones over his ears. The deputy to his right pressed a button and the recording machine clicked on.

The shrill ringing pierced the silence, invading every molecule of Olivia's body. From across the room, she made eye contact with Gregory, who gave her a small, but encouraging, smile. Next to him, Bette hung onto Thomas, her arm wrapped around his waist. Slowly, she lifted the handset and held it to her ear, whispering, "Hello?"

"_It certainly took you long enough to answer the phone, Olivia." _Ricardo watched as Olivia's eyes flickered and a shaky hand covered her mouth. The accented voice oozed out of the phone line like honey and his brow furrowed as he listened to the caller say, _"Was the intrepid detective telling you to prolong our call?"_

"Yes," she admitted in the barest of sighs, her knuckles white as she gripped the phone. The voice on the other end of the phone chuckled and she turned away from the small crowd surrounding her. "Is- is my daughter alright?"

"_Ah, the delightful Louise. Yes, she's quite well." _

Thomas felt his aunt squeeze his hand as they watched Olivia lean against the arm of the sofa. Behind him, Caitlin and Sean hovered quietly, taking in the horrified scene. "I need to hear her voice," they heard Olivia murmur, her long hair shielding her face from view.

"_No, no, I don't think so, Olivia. You see, you have something I want." _

She sighed, nodding in response. "The Deschanel jewels."

Ricardo's eyes flew up, listening as the voice on the phone continued to laugh. _"And here," _he heard the man say, _"I thought I would need to drag it out of you. But, there's no need for games...is there, Olivia? Not anymore."_

"I give you the jewels. You give me Louise."

"_A mere business transaction."_

She raised her head slowly, trudging through the dizzy sensation that was quickly overwhelming her. "Please let me talk to my daughter."

The line dropped into sudden silence and Ricardo pressed the headphones closer, wondering if the kidnapper had hung up when he heard him ask, _"Tell me, Olivia…have you told the police about the date?"_ Her spine stiffened and she listened to him breathing, the handset dangerously close to his mouth. _"Have you told them about the jewels?"_ Her face melted and her breath ran shallow. Another chuckle danced over the line and he said, _"I didn't think so."_

"Please," she said again, even as the dial tone droned aimlessly in her ear.

"Damn," Ricardo sighed under his breath, ripping off the headphones. "Spence, that wasn't long enough, was it?"

"Not for an exact location, no," the deputy said, rewinding the tape. "I'll get on with the tech guys and see if we can get something to go on."

The phone slipped from Olivia's hand and it clattered to the floor, the plastic cracking against the tile. Her lips parted, a moan rising low in her throat as she raised her hands to her face. Through the gap in her fingers, she saw Gregory standing behind her son and she lowered her hands slowly. "I told you," she sighed, her voice as broken as her spirit. "I told you they were cursed."

* * *

Cole hung up the phone and turned around, watching as Annie anxiously pressed a cool compress to her younger sister's forehead. The teenage girl moaned softly, her eyes dazed as she looked pitifully up at her. Annie flinched and glanced away as Cole stood next to them. "What did she say?" she asked.

"Olivia knows we want the jewels. She'll give them up in a heartbeat to get her precious little Louise back," he muttered, kneeling next to the sofa. Gently, he reached out, his fingers curling as he stroked the young girl's cheek. "You are beloved," he said softly as she turned her face away, whimpering softly.

Annie's stomach muscles tightened as Cole stood and she watched him move away from the sofa. "When are we getting the jewels?"

"Soon. From the sound of her voice, very soon." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a crumpled carton of Gauloises. "We'll just toy with her a bit more," he said, the cigarette dangling from his mouth. With an affable grin and the silver lighter clicking, he stepped out onto the porch.

She watched him through the window, leaning against the wooden beam as silver smoke streamed out of his mouth. Behind her, Louise grunted and leaned up onto her side as she vomited on the floor. Annie spun around, disgust and horror filling her expression as her sister collapsed, racking sobs taking over. "Oh God," she moaned, her nose wrinkling. "Gross."

Louise forced herself to look up, ugly black spots clouding her blurry vision. "I want my mother," she cried, tears and snot dripping down her face. "P- please, Annie…I want Mommy."

A frightened sob rose in Annie's throat, her hands twisting anxiously. "L- look, Louise, you…you just need to lay down," she stuttered, nervously spreading the remnants of yesterday's newspaper over the vomit. She flinched when her sister reached out, her ice-cold fingers grazing her arm. Her younger sister's blue eyes were vacant, her complexion pasty. She stood quickly, nearly tripping over the shallow coffee table. "Just…lay down and be quiet. This will be over soon."

As she rushed into the kitchen, she heard Louise's quiet sobs fill the silence of the living room. "Damn," she muttered, blinking back tears. "Damn, damn, DAMN!" She sucked in her breath, leaning against the cool door of the refrigerator. Wiping her eyes, she looked up blindly, desperately ready for this charade to be over. Through the small window over the sink that looked out onto porch, she saw Cole with a cell phone pressed to his ear. "Finally," she muttered, relieved to see that he called Olivia back to arrange a time to trade Louise for the jewels.

She wandered over to the window, cranking it open slightly to listen. Hopefully, he would demand the jewels immediately so-

"_I'll have the jewels tomorrow." _

She grimaced at the thought of another night in the God-forsaken cabin. Leaning over the counter, she rested her chin in her hand and wondered if she could get him to change his mind when she heard him say, "No, I'll detour through Canada._ It'll be easier to slip back into France if I leave from Montreal. I can blend in with the tourists and I'll meet you in Paris on the 15__th__."_

Annie stood quickly, her eyes darkening. Canada then Paris? "No," she whispered, spinning away from the window. "No…no. This is all…_wrong_."

She wandered back into the living room, her entire body trembling as a hideous thought entered her mind. "He's going to leave," she whispered, her hands balled into tight fists. The truth danced before her, blazing with the blinding clarity of a supernova. "He's going to take the jewels and leave me." She froze, an awful truth whispering from the core of her soul. She knew too much. She and Louise could identify Cole. "He's going to _kill_ me…kill us."

The door opened behind her and she froze when she heard Cole ask, "Why is the kitchen window open?" He brushed past her and she heard the crank whine as he rolled the window shut. "Well?" he asked when he came back. He grabbed Annie's arm and wrenched her around. "I told you to keep everything closed and locked. Why was it open?"

She pushed him away, rubbing her arm where he squeezed her. "In case you didn't notice the smell, here's a news flash: Louise threw up." His dark eyes flickered to the sofa where the teenage girl lay as she said, "It reeks in here."

He took his eyes off Louise long enough to watch Annie flounce off to the corner where she curled up in the overstuffed armchair, her arms folded tight over her chest. "Yes," he said quietly, watching as her eyes flickered to him. "Yes, it does."

* * *

Bette looked up as Gregory strode back into the living room, a grim expression on his face. She watched as he sat on the coffee table before them and touched Olivia's knee. Her eyes flew up to him, a gasp humming in her throat. "The jewels will be here within the hour," he said softly.

"That long?" Bette asked, her voice dulled and hoarse.

"How come?" Thomas asked, sitting up in the armchair. Caitlin and Sean exchanged a concerned look, waiting for their father to explain.

"Unfortunately, we can't just go in there and ask for them. Because of the insurance on them, the branch manager is required to notify the insurance company if they are removed from the bank. They're supposed to be accompanied by armed guards at all times-"

"And there's no way the insurance company will let me just give them away." They looked over as Olivia sighed, a sad smile briefly gracing her lips. "Not even to save my daughter's life."

Bette watched quietly as he reached for her sister-in-law's hand and nodded. "That's right. Luckily," he said quietly, his thumb rubbing her knuckle, "the bank manager has run up a substantial gambling debt. For the right price, he's agreed to turn a blind eye when my investigator goes to pick up the jewels."

An indescribable look passed between them and Olivia leaned forward, cupping his face briefly. "Thank you," she murmured, not caring that Bette and the children were watching. He smiled and kissed her palm, catching her hand as it fell from his cheek.

Ricardo came in from the patio, speaking quietly into the phone. They looked up, watching as he listened intently and ended the call. "There's been a development," he said as Olivia stood slowly, facing him with trepidation. The others stood too, Bette linking arms with her as Gregory placed his hands on her shoulders. "We've managed to keep Louise's kidnapping out of the news, but we still needed tips. So last night, I put out a BOLO with Louise's description to all of the surrounding law enforcement agencies. We've gotten some responses, but nothing solid to go on."

Olivia nodded, curling into the warmth of Gregory's hands. "But?" she asked, leading him on.

And, for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours, the detective smiled. "The telephone company wasn't able to complete the trace before the kidnapper hung up, but they were able to determine he called from the area surrounding Lake Tahoe. Knowing that suddenly made one of the tips we got from a state trooper _very_ interesting. This trooper reported seeing a girl who looked like Louise asleep in the back of a white BMW outside Tahoe City."

"Asleep?" Thomas asked, his mother reaching for his hand as the breath caught in her throat. "Not de-"

"_Appeared_ to be asleep," he clarified as he sighed, anticipating their reaction to the next part of the trooper's statement. "The white BMW was being driven by a young woman. A young…red head."

Olivia stiffened, her audible gasp filling the sudden silence. "Annie," she murmured, her knees giving way as she sank back to the sofa. She reached for Gregory's hand, clinging to it as she shook her head, trying to make sense of it all.

"No! No-no-no-_no_!" Bette gasped, whirling around. "Annie's not the only girl with red hair in California." Olivia's eyes turned up slowly, the blue irises deadly as she continued, "Livy, believe me, she _wouldn't_ do this! Louise is her sister."

"She drives a white BMW," Thomas murmured, rubbing his bleary eyes. He turned away, running an anxious hand through his dark hair.

"Bette, where is Annie?" Ricardo asked finally.

The older woman froze and turned slowly. "Ricardo, you can't think…you've known Annie since you were children! She was _Maria's_ best friend!"

His eyes darkened and he shook his head. "Bette, don't make this more difficult than it needs to be. Please. I need to know where she is."

Gregory watched her falter, helplessly shrugging her shoulders. "She's not a child. She doesn't check in with me every day."

"Bette, she lives in the same bloody house as you," Olivia snapped, looking up. "Tell him where she is!"

"I don't know!" she exclaimed, looking between Olivia and Ricardo. "Truly! She's got a new boyfriend, some French guy, and she's been spending all her time with him lately."

Gregory looked down at Olivia, feeling the way she stiffened. "A French man?" he heard her ask, her question dangerously low.

Bette nodded, confused. "Yes."

Olivia stood slowly, rubbing her arms as her mind worked furiously. None of it had been a coincidence. It was all planned, she realized with a shiver as she remembered the way the French curator's eyes burned into her, telling her the awful origins of the Deschanel jewels. The way he scared her the last time she saw him at _Grenadine's_. "Is his name," she asked quietly as she turned around, "Cole? Cole St. John?"

"Yes," Bette whispered, a horrified hand coming to her mouth. Her fingers trembled as she heard Ricardo open his phone, dialing a number. "Livy…"

"Spence," they heard Ricardo say into the phone, "run a check on a Cole St. John. He came from France, so C&B should have paper on him."

"He wanted the jewels," Olivia thought aloud, feeling his phantom lips on her hand. "He wouldn't take no for an answer. He was going to take them, no matter what."

* * *

Annie gulped hard, holding Louise's shoulders as she vomited into a plastic bucket. It was the third time in an hour she had been sick. "I think she has a concussion," she said over the girl's retching.

Cole looked up, uninterested. "If she passes out again, don't try to wake her. She can't throw up if she's unconscious."

Louise leaned back, gasping. Her head rested against her sister's arm, her voice weak as she said, "My head…hurts."

Slowly, Annie sat down behind her sister and let her sister lean back. Louise slumped against her with a sniffle and she slowly wrapped her arms around the girl. "Like a headache?" she asked, whispering in her ear.

"Worse," she sighed, curling against her. She reached up, covering Annie's hand with her own. The woman flinched as the teenager looked up, her eyes unnaturally dilated. "And, I can't see right."

An uncomfortable chill went through her, watching as the never-ending tears rolled down Louise's face. Without realizing she was doing it, she hugged her younger sister and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Be very still," she said after a long moment, standing slowly. Gently, she lay her sister back on the sofa, listening as she began to sob again.

"_Merde_!" Cole said, standing. "Enough with the crying!" He grabbed his cigarettes and stormed out of the cabin, slamming the door behind him.

She moved to the window, watching as he stalked across the lawn to lean against a tree. "Louise," she said, her eyes locked on him as he stood with his back to the cabin, furiously puffing on his cigarette, "can you walk?"

The teenage girl moaned, blinking rapidly as her sister turned to look at her. "I- I don't know," she admitted in a small voice.

Annie crouched next to the sofa, squeezing her hand. "You need to try," she said, helping her sit up. "I _really_ need you to try. I'm taking you home to Olivia." She wrapped her arm around the girls as she helped her stand, ignoring the lingering scent of vomit as she walked them to the front door. "Be very, _very_ quiet."

She nodded, blinking past the dark spots in her vision as she leaned against her sister. She heard Annie's car keys jingle and a moment later, the door opened. She winced as her sister led her onto the porch, the sunlight burning her eyes.

"Shh," Annie whispered when her sister moaned, her knees starting to buckle. She steadied the girl, her own heart pounding against her rib cage as they crept slowly around the porch to the driveway. With a fearful glance over her shoulder, she saw Cole still leaning against the tree as they stepped off the porch. Dust kicked up around their feet as they made their way to the car. "Come on, Lulu, we're almost there," she hissed when the girl faltered, her throat working as a green hue tinged her pale complexion. "I'll let you throw up in the car, I promise! Just _come on!_"

Louise gagged and stumbled, crying out as she slipped from her sister's grasp and fell. Dust flew into her face and she coughed, tasting dirt in her mouth. "Oh my God…_hurry_!" she heard her sister gasp and she felt her grab her arm, dragging her across the unpaved driveway to the car. "He's coming!"

"_ANNIE!"_

She whipped around, her name echoing in the cold air. Cole was running across the lawn, his face a mask of fury. She fumbled with the lock of the passenger door, swearing under her breath until the key turned. With her arms underneath Louise's armpits, she heaved the nearly unconscious girl to her knees, sweat trickling down her face. "Get down," she cried, dumping her onto the passenger seat and slamming the car door shut.

As Annie raced around to the other side, she heard Cole's feet on the cabin's porch and she looked up. Her eyes widened as she saw him lean against the railing, aiming a handgun at her. She ducked, screaming as a gunshot ricocheted through the cool spring morning. Tears of panic stung her eyes as she stuck the key in the door, the lock mercifully turning on the first attempt. She jumped into the driver's seat, slammed the door shut and deployed the automatic door locks just as Cole fumbled with the handle of the passenger door.

She jammed the key into the ignition and started the car, screaming as Cole's elbow slammed into the passenger door window. It exploded, glass shards raining down over her and Louise as she threw the car into Reverse and floored the gas. Tears streamed down her face as the wheels spun for several terrifying seconds, allowing Cole to lean in the open window, reaching for her. "You bitch," he growled as Louise shrieked, pressing herself back into the leather seat.

The car finally flew backwards, causing him to lose his grip and stumble. He fell away as the BMW's engine roared, the distance between him and the car quickly growing. Though it wouldn't amuse her until many, many years later, Annie's final image of Cole St. John was of him laying facedown in the dusty driveway as she sped backwards, her younger sister safely at her side.


	17. All the Way

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Seventeen: "All the Way"

The drone of the engines filled the cabin of Gregory's Learjet. The crème and wood interior glowed in the white sunlight, shadows shifting on the walls as the plane flew north to Squaw Valley. Gregory looked over and reached across the aisle, taking Olivia's hand. Her grip tightened as she glanced over, her face twisted with impatient anxiety. "I wish we were there already," she admitted, letting their fingers thread together.

He nodded, her fingers icy and trembling. "I know." With a quick look at his watch, he smiled confidently and explained, "We'll be there in about an hour."

The call had come in so unexpectedly that there had barely been enough time to get a flight plan filed. But, the grateful relief that filled Olivia's eyes when Ricardo announced that Louise and Annie had surfaced at a Squaw Valley hospital made it gloriously worthwhile.

Olivia sighed, her dry eyes sweeping over the quiet cabin. Ricardo and his deputy sat in the jet's first row, quietly guarding Annie's extradition paperwork and completing the transportation reimbursement for Gregory. Bette and Thomas occupied the seats in the second row directly facing Gregory and Olivia. The older woman was unusually subdued, her red hair catching on the sunlight as she quietly twisted her wedding rings. Thomas gazed blindly out the small on his left, his fingers tensely drumming the seat's armrest.

Sixty minutes.

3,600 seconds.

An eternity until her daughter was safely in her arms again.

* * *

"Passport, please."

Cole smiled, his dimples flashing in full force as he held out his French passport to the customs officer at the airport in Reno. He waited calmly as she scrutinized the passport before she returned it with a satisfied nod. "Did you enjoy your stay in the United States, Mr. Theroux?"

He nodded, tucking the fake identification back into his pocket. "Oh, yes. Very much," he lied before she gestured him through the security checkpoint. The smile fell from his face as he pushed his way through the crowded terminal, his grim expression belying how pleased he was to make the flight to Calgary. _Calgary_, he shuddered, annoyed that the sudden change of plans was causing him to miss a rendezvous with Genevieve. But, he couldn't get out of the country fast enough after more than a year of meticulous planning went up in smoke.

There was a crowd at the gate, passengers already waiting to board the plane. He joined the line, glancing at his watch. Though he made excellent time driving in from Squaw Valley, he had no doubt that Annie had reached the police and was probably directing them to the abandoned cabin. Wouldn't they be surprised when all they found was the charred remnants of the wood and stone structure? Perhaps the fire would still be burning when they arrived, all evidence of Cole St. John as destroyed as his plans.

Cole St. John was dead.

Pierre Theroux was alive.

* * *

The nurse looked up as the doors to the Emergency Room's waiting area banged open as the sheriff led a crowd of people into the small hospital. "Bernadette," he called out, his hat in his hands, "get the doctor. These are the folks here for the young girl."

She nodded, immediately spotting the anxious mother at the front of the group. "Go on through," she said, holding open the door to the exam rooms. "The doctor is already there. Room B."

Olivia pushed forward with Thomas on her heels as they hurried through, seeing another police officer and the doctor at the end of the hall. "My daughter," she gasped as they turned. "Where is she? Is she alright?"

The doctor nodded, taking her arm as he led her over to the exam room. "I'm Doctor Calloway. Your daughter is resting," he explained, gesturing through the observation window. Her face crumbled and she leaned against her son as they watched Louise sleeping in the hospital bed. "A CAT scan indicated she has a concussion. From what the woman who brought her in stated, your daughter was vomiting severely and, as a result, is very dehydrated."

She nodded, unable to take her eyes off her daughter as she listened to the doctor explain about the IV line that would re-hydrate her and went through a litany of cuts and bruises. A lump welled in her throat and she squeezed her son's hand when she heard him gasp. "May we see her?" she asked, looking up at the doctor.

"Of course," he said, opening the door to the exam room. "Rest is the most important medicine Louise will need in order to recover. I've administered a non-narcotic pain reliever to help her sleep, so please don't force her to stay awake."

Gregory watched them disappear into the room, the door closing firmly behind them. He stood quietly in front of the window, watching as Olivia leaned over the bed and cupped Louise's face. He saw her shoulders shake as she sobbed over her daughter's bedside, gazing down at the needle in her arm. Thomas kneeled down on the opposite side, resting his forehead on his sister's arm as he reached for his mother's hand. After a moment, Louise's blue eyes fluttered open and he turned away, leaving the reunited family to their privacy.

"Excuse me," Bette said, her voice strained as she turned to the sheriff. "My other niece, Annie Douglas…where is she?"

He cleared his throat, indicating to another room around the corner. "She's in Room F. I've detained her there until the doctor clears her."

"We'll take it from here, Bette," Ricardo said softly, gesturing for Spence to follow as he and the sheriff turned the corner.

She turned away, brushing tears from her eyes. "I don't understand," she said aloud, meeting Gregory's eyes. "I just don't understand how Annie could do this."

* * *

"My darling," Olivia sighed, pressing a gentle kiss to her daughter's forehead. Tears burned at her eyes, thankful relief flooding through her exhausted body. Louise was alive. Alive and safe.

Louise sighed, watching her mother through half-closed eyes. "Are you really here?" she murmured.

"Yes, Lulu, I'm here. Thomas and I are _both_ here," she said softly, gently holding her daughter's hand. She looked up at her son, his jaw clenched tight as tears distorted his blue eyes. "Let her see you, Darling," she said, coaxing him up. He stood, hesitating for a long moment until she whispered, "Come closer. You won't hurt her."

He nodded and finally smiled down at his sister, watching her blue eyes flutter. "I love you, Lou," he sighed, kissing her forehead.

The girl nodded, suddenly tired as her mother smoothed the blankets over her. "Mommy," she whispered and Olivia looked up. "Annie…she saved me," she sighed, unable to miss the way her mother's face turned. "She didn't leave me behind…and she could have."

A heavy feeling twisted in Olivia stomach, feeling her son's eyes burning into her. For Louise's benefit, she nodded. "Just rest, Darling. Rest." She watched her close her eyes, breathing deeply and evenly within moments. With a deep sigh, she pulled the visitor's chair up next to the bed and sat down, mulling over her daughter's words.

* * *

Sean looked up as Caitlin walked back into the living room at Haven, the portable phone to her ear. "Ok. Thanks, Daddy," she said, plopping down on the leather sofa. "Love you too. Bye."

"Well?" he asked, turning to her.

She beamed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Louise is safe. A bad concussion, but otherwise ok." She put her hand on his shoulder when he sighed deeply, closing his eyes gratefully. "He thinks the doctor is going to want to keep her for a day or so though. Olivia and Thomas are staying until she's released."

"Is Dad going to stay with them?"

With a shake of her head, she explained, "He's coming home tonight. Louise needs rest and it sounds like he doesn't want to be in the way."

They were quiet for a long moment, lost in their own thoughts when Sean tentatively said, "So…Dad and Olivia."

"We knew it was going to happen some day," she said softly, watching him out the corner of her eye. Her younger brother chewed on his bottom lip and in an instant, she was looking at the thirteen-year-old boy he once was. When they had sat with Casey by Alex's bedside, her three blonde babies, listening as she quietly explained what she needed them to do when the time came. "Mom-"

"I know," he said abruptly. "I know Mom wanted us to accept that Dad would find someone new and that we promised we would." He stood, moving away from the sofa as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I just- never- well, not _really_-"

She smiled sadly, watching him from where she sat. "You just never really thought it would happen?" she suggested, his brown eyes flickering to hers. He nodded tentatively and felt somewhat relieved when she admitted, "Me neither."

"And, now it feels…" he whispered, his voice trailing away.

"Like losing Mom all over again."

He nodded, his sister saying what he wasn't able to manage. "Mom really wanted this?"

"I think," she began, watching him carefully, "it made it easier for Mom. Somehow. Don't you remember how relieved she looked when we all promised?" With a reluctant nod, she stood and neared him slowly. "At least Olivia isn't some young flake who's just after Daddy for his money." A small grin appeared on his face and she giggled, squeezing his hand. "You know it's true."

"Yeah." A thought entered his mind and he glanced over, suggesting, "He _has_ been in a good mood these last few weeks."

"And, I _like _Olivia," Caitlin finally said, relieved when her brother nodded. "We both like Thomas and Louise."

"Did you ever think, when we met them all those months ago, this would happen?"

"Not in a _million_ years. But, something tells me that when all of this settles down, we're going to be seeing a lot more of the Douglas family than we already do."

Sean balked. "You think?"

"Of course. You know Daddy. He never does anything less than all the way."

* * *

Olivia closed the door to Louise's room softly and looked up as Gregory stood. "How is Louise?" he asked as she sighed deeply. She leaned into his chest, letting his warm arms envelope her as she closed her eyes.

"Asleep, thank God." His hand ran over her limp hair, settling between her shoulder blades. "Hopefully, she's not dreaming and remembering everything that's happened."

He glanced down at her as her arms curled around his waist. "She know you're here. That had to have put her at ease."

"I hope so," she sighed, reluctantly stepping out of his embrace to look up. She brushed her hair back from her eyes, noticing the way his eyes moved over her face. "What?" she asked, squaring her shoulders.

"If Louise is sleeping, you should think about resting too. You've been up since yesterday."

With a slight nod, she glanced around, her eyes searching the Emergency Room. "Later, I think," she said, taking his hand. "What's happening with Annie?"

He sighed deeply. "Ricardo executed the D.A.'s extradition papers. He's bringing her back to Sunset Beach and she'll be charged with kidnapping, child endangerment and attempted extortion."

"Is she still here?"

"For now."

She was quiet for a moment, thinking as her stomach fluttered. "Will they let me see her?"

"Why would you want to do that?" he asked quietly even as his arm slipped around her waist and he led her around the corner.

"I-" she began, only to find herself at a loss. How could she explain it to Gregory if she could scarcely explain it to herself? She stopped suddenly, feeling his eyes on her as she drew a shaky breath into her lungs. "I just need to," she finally said, her shoulders collapsing.

He watched her for a long moment, a myriad of emotions running across her face. "Alright," he said and she watched him go over to Spence, speaking quietly as he gestured to Olivia. She neared them when he nodded and opened the door to the exam room, letting her pass.

Olivia heard the door close behind her, but she was frozen to the ground as she watched Annie. The young woman was lying on the hospital bed, gazing into the corner of the room. Her left hand was bandaged, the gauze wrapped thick. But it was her right hand that captured Olivia's attention. The handcuffs glistened in the afternoon sunlight, linking Annie to the rail of the bed.

"What do you want?" she muttered, not turning to look at her step-mother.

Her feet came to life and she moved slowly to the bed, standing at its foot. "What did you do to your hand?" she asked.

"I cut it on some broken glass in the car."

A chill went through her and she folded her arms against her chest. "The nurse said you asked about Louise."

Annie finally looked up, a broken expression becoming her as she asked, "No one would tell me anything. Is she alright?" She exhaled deeply when Olivia nodded, unable to describe the emotions flooding her as she whispered, "This wasn't supposed to happen. She was _never_ supposed to be hurt."

"Am I supposed to believe that?"

"_You_ were supposed to be the only one who got hurt."

With an unsurprised scoff filling the silence, she whispered, "Now, _that_ I believe." Their gazes locked, blue on green as she continued, "Louise says you saved her."

Annie turned away, her vision blurring as she gazed at the pale green wall. "If you believe her."

The silence was deafening and a layer of Olivia's soul ripped away as she murmured, "Thank you." Her step-daughter looked up, an incredulous but wary look clouding her face. "Thank you for saving my daughter's life."

She leaned against the pillows, the tight handcuff cutting into the bones of her wrist. "I knew she was sick. I- I couldn't leave her there," she admitted, wiping tears from her eyes. "Not with Cole." She sighed shakily, unable to do anything but gaze at the broken remnants of her life. "Please…tell Louise I'm sorry. So very _sorry_."

Olivia froze, an oddly blank cloud surrounding her as the door to the exam room opened. She looked over seeing Ricardo in the doorway with the local sheriff. He cleared his throat and said, "Mrs. Douglas, you need to excuse us. Annie's being released from the hospital."

With a short nod, she turned to leave, seeing Gregory waiting in the hallway. As she neared the door, she heard Annie call out, "Olivia, you will tell Louise…won't you?" She stopped and glanced over her shoulder, her expression guarded as she nodded.

And, Annie leaned back in the bed, momentarily at peace.


	18. Dust to Dust

_A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing this story!_

* * *

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Eighteen: "Dust to Dust"

"Do you think you can stomach some soup?"

Louise looked up, nestled snugly on the sofa beneath a thick quilt. She nodded eagerly and smoothed the space over her lap. "I'm starving," she sighed as her mother gently placed the tray on her legs. She inhaled deeply, the fragrant steam curling around her face in wisps. "This smells _amazing_."

Olivia smiled and sat on the sofa, pulling her daughter's feet into her lap. "It should. Theresa's been slaving over it all day," she said softly, watching as she dug in. The color had returned to Louise's face and it was becoming easier for her to sit up for long periods. In short, her daughter was slowly on the road to recovery. "Much better than the sludge in the hospital?"

"Oh yes!" She grimaced, recalling the alleged food on her hospital tray. "I think I would've gotten sick if I kept eating it."

"Lou, it was only two days."

"You weren't the one who had to choke it down."

She cocked her head, conceding the point. Rubbing her daughter's blanket-clad feet, she asked, "And, you're feeling-"

"Fine," she interjected, dipping a thick piece of brown bread into the hot soup. "My head doesn't hurt and I'm not dizzy or nauseous. Just hungry."

"Alright," she murmured, watching her daughter eat. Baci stretched out between them, a perpetual shadow since the return of her young mistress. She sighed, wondering if the anxiety churning in her stomach would take up permanent residency. Her daughter was safe and home where she belonged, but Cole St. John was still out there. Somewhere. She shivered, her hand trembling and getting Louise's attention.

"What's wrong, Mom?"

Her eyes flew up and she shook her head, forcing a smile to her face. She couldn't worry her, not with this. "Oh, just thinking about the last few months," she sighed, a half-truth she was comfortable telling. "They've been…trying."

Louise nodded, her spoon clinking against the edge of the bowl. "Mom," she began, nervously twisting the cloth napkin, "_that_ morning, I was angry. Remember?" She nodded, her mother's hand comfortingly heavy on her feet. "I- I know."

Her lips parted and her heart began to beat rapidly. She sat up, suddenly dizzy as her breath ran shallow. Louise knew about the kidnapping all those years ago. If Louise knew, Thomas knew. She closed her eyes, feeling her world spinning out of control. Nothing mattered if she didn't have her children and this was surely the thing that would make them turn their backs on her. "Lou," she began, panic rising in her throat, "I _promise_ you I can explain."

The teenager sat back, watching the color drain from her mother's face. Olivia sat up and turned to her, suddenly not knowing how to justify her part in the kidnapping to her daughter. Not that there was truly any justification. Louise wouldn't understand what it was like to want something, _someone_, so much that you considered forgoing your morals for him. "Mom," she heard her daughter say, "what is there to explain?" She looked up with tear-filled eyes, the horror of this long-imagined moment coming to life.

"I just don't understand," Louise admitted quietly. "Did you ever love Daddy?"

Olivia's head snapped forward, like she had been electrocuted. "What?"

She shrugged, suddenly looking like a lost child. "Daddy…did he know that you didn't love him?"

"Your father?"

Her eyes widened. "Mom, are you alright? I thought _I_ was the one with the head injury?"

Olivia shook her head, rubbing her temples. "I'm sorry, Lulu," she sighed. "I- I thought you knew-"

"That's what I already said. I know about you and Gregory."

"Oh." Relief flooded through her, sweetly racing through her veins. "I'm sorry, Darling. I just…wasn't expecting-"

"For me to know." She sighed and glanced down, murmuring, "By the way, I _am_ old enough to understand these things."

She bit her lip and leaned back into the sofa cushions, gently squeezing her daughter's foot. "I was going to tell you and Thomas," she explained slowly. "But, so much has happened since January, I didn't…know how."

"But..." Louise looked up, meeting her mother's eyes. "Do you love Gregory?" She watched her mother nod and she asked, "Are you going to marry him?"

"No one's thinking about that, least of all me," she replied honestly. She reached out and took her daughter's hand. "You know that your father and I fought." When her daughter nodded slowly, she continued, "I don't think either of us was very happy. But sometimes, you make a mistake and you just dig a deeper and deeper hole until you can't possibly climb out."

"So, it was a mistake that you and Daddy married?" She watched her mother nod and she frowned, her hands trembling. "Does that mean Tom and I are mistakes?"

She shook her head. "Oh, no. You two were the brightest spots in our marriage." She leaned forward to kiss her daughter's hand and murmured, "I don't know what I'd do without either of you in my life."

The doorbell chimed, echoing throughout the first floor. Olivia squeezed her daughter's hand and looked up, watching the dark shadow from behind the frosted glass. A moment later, Theresa bustled in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. Olivia's face fell when their guest walked in, nodding politely. "Detective Torres," she said, standing.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Douglas," he said, coming into the living room. "I heard Louise was released from the hospital and I wanted to check on her." The teenager look up and smiled politely as he asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thank you. I'm happy to be home."

"I bet," he replied. He cleared his throat and looked up at Olivia, though he directed his question to the girl. "I was wondering if there was anything else you can tell me about what happened up at the cabin."

Olivia watched her daughter's eyes fall and she stepped forward. "I though you questioned Annie?"

"I did. She was very forthcoming in what she knows about Cole and his plans." He turned to the teenage girl and crouched next to her, smiling gently. "Have you remembered anything else, Louise?"

She shook her head, looking between the detective and her mother. "I don't think there's anything else," she said after a long moment. "What did Annie say?"

"She was able to corroborate everything you told us."

"Are- are you any closer to finding _him_?" she asked in a small voice.

Ricardo looked up at Olivia, who nodded, before he said, "Well, the thing is, we don't really know who he is. The name he gave to your mother and Annie was a fake. But, we've been working with Interpol." He stood and turned to Olivia. "John Doe, a.k.a. Cole St. John, a.k.a Jean Rousseau, a.k.a A-Dozen-More-Aliases, has built up _quite_ a list of charges. Mostly jewel theft in Europe, but never kidnapping."

She shivered as Louise cleared her throat and asked, "Detective? What's going to happen to my sister?"

He sighed and gravely began, "Annie is in quite a bit of trouble. But, your aunt's gotten her a lawyer and-"

"What if I don't want to press charges against her?"

Ricardo watched Olivia's lips disappear into a thin line. "Louise," he said, "what you are saying means-

She watched her mother's face turn, her blue eyes narrowed. "I know what it means," she said softly. "But, you said she's helping you. Please, she's just as much as a victim as me." Tears filled her eyes, clinging to her eyelashes. "She needs help, Detective. And, if it wasn't for her, that man would've killed me."

He was quiet for a long moment before he turned to Olivia. "Mrs. Douglas?"

With a deep sigh, she nodded. "My daughter and I have already spoken about this. I believe she's made herself quite clear. I trust her judgment."

"Alright, then," he said, a small pleased grin dancing on his lips. "I'll speak to Patricia Steele, the District Attorney, on your behalf. She's probably going to try and talk you out of it though."

"Thank you, Detective," Louise said, reaching for his hand. "I understand, but my mind is made up."

He covered her hand with his and squeezed gently. "You're a _very_ brave girl, Louise," he said. She blushed and nodded when he pulled his hand back and turned to Olivia. "Thank you, Mrs. Douglas."

Olivia patted her daughter's shoulder as she passed, following the detective out the front door. "You do understand she's serious?" she asked, stepping out of the house. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the palm, filling the courtyard with warmth. The detective nodded and turned to her, a question dancing in his eyes. "She's right about my step-daughter though. Annie needs help. Do you think the D.A. will plead her out?"

He shrugged. "I think so. Patricia Steele's going to have a hard time making a case if you and Louise won't press charges." As Olivia nodded, he stepped closer and sighed. "Mrs. Douglas," he began, a mockery of apology, "I have to ask, one _more_ time, for you to tell me what the date on the bag meant." He watched her pale, biting the corner of her lip. She wringed her hands and several beats of silence went by before he reluctantly said, "I suppose it doesn't really matter anymore though. Your daughter is home safe and Elaine Stevens has been arrested for Del's murder."

With a sigh and a trembling hand, she brushed her hair behind her ear. "You should know, I've asked Gregory Richards to represent Elaine and he's agreed to take her case. Pro bono." His eyebrows jumped in surprise as she continued, "My late husband was _not_ a good man. If Elaine killed him, believe me, Detective, she was _justified_."

* * *

The tiny pebbles coating the driveway crunched beneath the wheels of the polished Rolls Royce. Sitting in the backseat, Cole's mouth tightened and he rolled his eyes as the driveway curved and the stately chateau came into view. The dark night swallowed the south wing as spotlights shot beams of golden light over the doorway. He had grown up here, sliding down the polished banister when no one was looking and scampering through the immaculate gardens. But, it never felt like a home.

Braking, the car pulled up alongside the front door as it opened and a tall man stepped out. With a grimace, Cole waited until the imposing man pulled open the door of the backseat before he got out. "_Bonjour_," the old butler said quietly.

Cole's eyes flickered to his, but he said nothing. He turned away and walked into the house, stepping onto the black and white tiles of the foyer. With a deep inhale, he realized that not only did it look the same, but also it smelled the same. Going down the hall, his brow furrowed as the imposing doors at the end of the hall came into view. How often he had made this very trip as a child. There was nothing the active and curious boy wouldn't try, despite the harsh punishments that awaited him. His hand brushed against the doorknob and he pushed down, the door swinging open with a creak.

Dim lighting bathed the room, shadows lurking in the corner. Standing in front of one of the windows was the person he most despised in the world. "Grand-mere," he said, slipping into his native French.

Slowly, the blonde woman turned, her eyebrow arched. With the grace of Aphrodite, she stood still, quietly appraising him like a piece of art. Silently, he submitted, letting her eyes move critically over him. It would never change. He would always be wrong. With a frown of disapproval, she clasped her hands before her and said, "What a mess you've gotten yourself into, Louis."

Cole shrugged, ignoring the use of his given name as her crisp voice echoed in the silence. Like a snake's skin, he shed the burden of being born Louis Charles Rene Deschanel long ago. Unfortunately, she and her money were omnipresent reminders. Now, she crossed the room, her white pantsuit a sharp counterpoint to the antique furniture. As she neared him, her eyes narrowed and he inhaled a whiff of her perfume. Chanel No. 5 was never more terrifying. "How-" he began, only to be cut off as her hand came up and she smacked his face.

The crack resonated in the quiet and bounced around the room. Slowly, he turned back to her, her eyebrow arched daringly. "I know _everything_," she hissed in French. Julianna deplored the English language more than anything. "And, I am disgusted."

"Disgusted?" he repeated incredulously. "I am disgusted that I've had to trace my birthright half way around the world to get it back."

"Those jewels?" she muttered, her fingers dancing against the triple strand of pearls around her neck. She scoffed and turned away, pacing around the room. "They're nothing."

"They are-"

"_Nothing_," she said, her voice low. Her eyes sparkled and she paused dramatically, an open invitation for him to challenge her. "Mere trinkets compared to everything else I have."

"They are worth millions!" he snapped, his eyes blazing. She turned away, her chin tilted low to her chest. "I need that money!"

"Ah, so it's about money." He watched her stubbornly refuse to turn around and face him. "How…_common_." A beat of silence passed before she continued, "Though I don't approve, I understand you have stolen several million francs worth of jewelry. Surely, that provides you an ample income? We haven't yet switched over to that godforsaken euro, so the stolen jewels must be worth something."

"It's not enough." He watched the twist of blonde hair on her head and realized he had never seen her with a different hairstyle. Like everything in her world, it was just one more thing to control. And, Julianna Deschanel never yielded control to anyone or anything, least of all her hair.

Or, her only grandson.

"Why isn't it enough?" she asked, finally turning slowly. An amused expression danced on her face, her eyebrow still arched as she waited for his response. "Is it because," she suggested when he said nothing, "your thieving game has escalated beyond your control?" She took a step closer and for the first time, Cole felt an iota of the fear he so knew in her presence. Her eyes darkened as she said, "I understand that you've been doing some very bad business with the Russians." He swallowed, hearing footsteps in the hall behind him. Heavy footsteps. "I understand you owe them quite a bit of money," she continued as two large men stepped into her study. "Something about double crossing them on the price of several expensive jewels. Though I don't know why you needed to resort to all of that. I offered you a large allowance to stay and live a respectable life here, with me."

The two men came up on either side of them, a sour smell filling Cole's nostrils. He watched his grandmother, who stood silent before him. "That's precisely why. I would rather die than live here with you."

Julianna cocked her head and sighed. "It seems," she finally said, glancing to the bulky man on her grandson's left, "that you may get your wish. You've disgraced me and the Deschanel name, Louis."

A split second later, the men wrapped their arms around Cole and yanked him from the room. Strangely, he felt nothing as he was dragged down the hall, his grandmother fading from view. He briefly saw the black and white tile of the foyer before the cool night air greeted him. As he was shoved into the back of a black SUV, he saw the butler's frown of disapproval.

And, Louis Charles Rene Deschanel grinned at the older man as a black sack was tugged over his head.

* * *

In the study, Julianna walked to the window, her hand resting against the thick curtain. She watched silently as the black SUV sped down the driveway. Her face was still, immobile as the car turned the bend and the red tail lights disappeared from view. Her lips pursed, fine lines crawling from her mouth.

From behind her, she felt the slight shift in the air as her butler entered the room. "It is done," he announced grandly.

She said nothing as she turned around, her arms folded against her chest. "Yes," she sighed, feeling nothing. "It's finally done."

* * *

Gregory stood quietly in the doorway of the study, watching Olivia. She was standing in front of the windows, her arms folded tight against her chest. Her shoulders were square and her back straight, almost uncomfortably so. He rapped his knuckles on the doorjamb and asked, "How's Louise?"

She glanced over her shoulder, a small smile coming to her lips. "She's getting better every day. She's asleep, I believe," she said. His gaze bridged the distance between them as he hovered in the doorway, holding a large briefcase. "What's in there?"

With a sigh, he closed the door behind him and neared her. "The Deschanel jewels," he answered and he watched her recoil. "I've had them since the other day when we snuck them out of the bank."

She looked away, her throat working. "I don't want them."

"I know."

A tremor went through her body, her hands clenched into tight fists. Gently, he sat the briefcase on her desk and the locks clicked as he opened it. "W-what are you doing?" she asked as he turned it on its side. The glittering jewels tumbled out and landed in a heap on the leather blotter. "Gregory, stop," she insisted, moving to stand next to him as he spread out the jewels on her desk. "Please…_don't_-"

He turned, watching her closely. "It's over," he said as she paled. "These…mean nothing to you. Not anymore." Her brow furrowed as she gazed down at the sparkling jewels, a rainbow of gold, diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, amethysts and rubies. "No one knows the truth about how you got them and it's going to stay that way." She sighed as he took her hand, their fingers threading together. With a gentle squeeze, he continued, "In her signed confession, Elaine said that Del admitted that he kidnapped her son. He never said anything to her about you being involved."

She gasped and covered her mouth, suddenly grateful to her late husband. Whether or not he realized it, he had given her one last gift. Her freedom. The awful truth died with him. A shiver went through her as she turned back to the jewels. A beam of sunlight landed on the desk, causing the polished copper statue on her desk to glow. Instinctively, she lunged for it, gripping the swan statue by its neck as she attacked the jewels.

Gregory stepped back, watching as her arm came down repeatedly. Beneath her deadly hand, the stones set in the jewelry popped and shattered one by one. Colorful shards and flakes of dust littered her desk and she breathed heavily, leaving no piece whole. She hunched over the desk, sobbing as she hit the statue against the jewel crumbs, wanting no trace of them left in her life. She couldn't destroy the memory of them, but she could destroy _them_. There would be no trace of them ever. They would be gone, as gone as Del, as gone as her sins and as gone as the innocent baby she stole all those years ago.

She lost her grip on the swan statue and it flew out of her hand. It landed with a dull thud in the corner of the study. She collapsed, resting her elbows on the desk. A moment later, she felt Gregory's hand in the middle of her back, resting solidly. Her whole body shuddered as she gasped for air and looked over her shoulder. "W-what do you think of me?" she managed to ask. "Now th-that you know the truth?"

He looked up in surprise, but said nothing. Her heart raced and she could still feel the weight of the statue in her hand as she pushed herself up. She leaned against the desk, the edge digging into her hip. With her arms folded tightly against her, she continued, "Other than Del and Bette, you are the only person who knows the truth about me." Still, he said nothing, only watching her silently as she sniffled. "But," she faltered, looking up, "I'm so glad I told you. For better or worse, you know all of me." He reached out, cupping her shoulders as she concluded, "I wouldn't want it any other way, not if…"

He rubbed her shoulders and shook his head, hushing her. "Not if we're going to make this work," he finished. Her face crumbled, tears dulling her eyes as he inched closer. He cupped her chin and tilted her face up until their eyes met. "And, we _will_ make it work," he promised.

"I love you," she sighed, leaning against his chest and hugging him tight. She turned her face into his neck, breathing in the rich and comforting scent of his cologne.

His lips danced against her ear as he whispered, "I love you too." She looked up, her lips parted as he continued, "Sean told me that Louise knows."

She nodded. "All of our children know."

"And, yet, the world is still turning. It hasn't imploded."

Olivia leaned back against him, listening to his heart beating in his chest. A moment later, she felt his chin on her head as his arms tightened around her. "Do you think," she asked softly, "that we could go back?" She looked up, watching him carefully. "Like a fresh start?"

Several beats of silence passed before he nodded and said softly, "Hi, I'm Gregory."

She grinned as he cupped her face. "I'm Olivia," she whispered as he leaned in, kissing her gently.

THE END.


End file.
